“I like that,” said Sally. “It leads one on and on. Who said that?”

“Isaac Pennington. How I do run on, dear! It’s old age. And I want to show you the linen cupboard.”‘

(Pilgrim’s Inn, by Elizabeth Goudge)

It is strange how much love can be held in a little structure of glass and metal. It is even stranger how easy it is to stop seeing it.

The terrarium has hung over my bookcase for months now, a shining reminder of my husband’s love. But over time it has melted into the fabric of our home, so familiar and comfortable that it’s become at times invisible. I forget it is there, until something reminds me. . . candlelight, or, like tonight, the glow of a New Mexico sunset.

It wasn’t the substance that drew my gaze, but the shadow of it. . . there on the wall, rich with the colors of the sky.

The shadow.

****

Robert is on the other side of the world right now. . . his today is my tomorrow and he is falling asleep at night as I am waking up in the morning. And while I truly have never felt any major shift in our lives, that abrupt end of the ‘honeymoon’ phase that was supposed to happen one day, I have realized in these quiet days of his absence that I have lost sight of something precious since the early months of our marriage. I’ve grown so accustomed to the beauty of life that I’ve stopped seeing it in the bright places where I once saw it so clearly.

I’m finding it again, now, in the shadows of his absence — in the scent of cedarwood and the vastness of a queen size bed. And the shadow of a glass case in the sunset, saying ‘This is the bright love you’ve been given. . . see its shadow on the wall? Feel its flutters within, growing ever stronger and more insistent?’

****

Yes, my eyes are weak, and sometimes I need the shadow to remind me of the substance. But so do we all, because we are human. And God knows this.

I was writing lesson plans this evening for the language arts class I strive to teach, and as I wrote I pondered how very many shadows God casts for us in Genesis. We’ve seen the substance so many times — Christ, dead and raised — that sometimes our eyes are blinded and we must see in a glass darkly to see at all. And so God shows us the ram caught in the brambles and the king of Salem serving wine and bread and over and over the shadows dance so that the substance may glow again in our minds.

****

The sunset has long since faded, but tonight, there is a candle glowing behind the glass walls of his love, casting shadows that remind me the substance is real.

Since getting married, I have felt a steady pull towards a smaller, curated collection of simple pieces I like wearing and my husband likes seeing me in, so that I can just pull something from my closet and put it on without giving it much thought. This pull has coincided with a growing realization of the devastating effects of the ‘fast fashion’ industry on the people who manufacture cheap, trendy clothing under poor conditions for insufficient wages, as well as its effects on the environment. Thankfully, these two developments in my thoughts on fashion lend themselves very well to each other, and I determined to make some changes in the way that I managed my closet.

I got rid of most of the clothes in my closet that I didn’t wear regularly and determined to plan for a wardrobe that would suit my new philosophy. It would include just what I would need and use often; it would be made up of quality pieces that would be nice to wear and hold up well long-term; it would be made up of a combination of secondhand items, new ethically-made pieces, and, for those items not available in ethical brands (generally outdoor or workout gear), well-made items that would last as long as possible. I expected that such a wardrobe would take some time to collect, and so it has; while I have made strides toward such a closet, I’m not there yet. I am ok with this. In fact, I’m enjoying the slow and purposeful process. But I have run into a problem that I’m at a loss as to how to solve.

You see, my husband and I are what we like to consider pros at thrift shopping. We have learned to find and recognize good deals and to capitalize on them (for instance, the $200 Fjallraven pants we bought for $20. . .), and it’s a process we both highly enjoy. The search is in itself a fun activity, and if it takes a little time to find a particular item, it just makes the satisfaction that much greater when I do find it. Of course, the prices are pretty wonderful, and I feel no guilt in making a secondhand purchase. Rather than contributing to the consumerism of the fashion industry, I’m helping to keep perfectly wearable clothes from going into landfills or upsetting third world economies. It’s come to the point where I have been shopping almost exclusively secondhand (except for things that are really just better bought new, like underclothes or running shoes), and not making any of the previously-planned purchases from ethical companies.

And I’ve begun wondering, lately, if my enthusiasm for second-hand shopping has caused me to fall into an unexpected trap. You see, I am doing no harm with my thrifted purchases. . .but I am doing no good, either. One unforeseen effect of buying secondhand exclusively is that I have come to see these prices as the norm; now I balk at paying full price for anything. After being used to paying $3 for name-brand shorts, I am turned off by the idea of spending $180 for a leather clutch handmade by a woman who has escaped from sexual slavery. And so, though I’ve largely stopped contributing to fast fashion. . .I haven’t actively contributed to stopping fast fashion, either.

To dip into philosophy for a moment, the Kantian categorical imperative argues that we should ‘act only according to that maxim whereby you can, at the same time, will that it should become a universal law.’ I am not extremely familiar with the larger philosophy of Kant and therefore do not wish to overemphasize it; but I must recognize that the categorical imperative makes a convincing argument when applied to the subject of fast fashion. If I believe that fast fashion is wrong and that we need a complete solution, I must also recognize that solution obviously cannot be as simple as ‘everyone should just buy secondhand only.’ If everyone only bought secondhand, then not only would we run out of clothing eventually, but all of those people who rely on the wages earned from manufacturing clothing, even if insufficient, would be unable to support themselves at all.

This being the case, can I be satisfied to act in a way that I can’t recommend everyone else act as well? Can I be satisfied to buy secondhand only, without contributing to companies that are striving to change the structure of the fashion industry? I can’t, of course, afford to buy everything new from these companies, but I could, if I really wished, choose to invest my money in a few pieces.

I don’t, because I’m frugal, and secondhand is always going to be the frugal choice, and I rarely need anything that I can’t with some patience find secondhand (either at a thrift store or on consignment through a company like ThredUp). . .and most of all, because I assume that ‘frugal’ is always the better and more responsible choice.

But I don’t know if I can honestly that this is the case, when I consider it. We are called to be stewards of our resources. . .to spend those resources in the best way possible. This can and often does involve being frugal in our purchases; but I am coming to think that it may also mean choosing to spend more money to support a good cause. Perhaps what I’ve been calling frugal is actually nothing better than stinginess. So what is worth spending more money on? I truly don’t know. I suppose I will keep pondering and thinking. . .

Until then, I will wear my $3 shorts happily. . .and thoughtfully.

It is a strange thing to read your own work years later, after having been distanced from it for a long time. . .stranger still to hear it sung in a voice you don’t recognize. I found the words resonating with me and I rolled them around in my head, trying to understand the metaphor, before I realized with a start that I had authored the metaphor.

Perhaps it’s a little like seeing your grown and married and bearded son kissing his wife. A new person, a stranger, in a way, but at the same time still the son whom you carried and bore and fed and taught and loved for years. That is the way I imagine it might be, of course; but I suppose I will have to wait until I have a son who is married to see if the comparison is at all accurate. 

It is strange, though, to have written something so long ago, when I knew less of the world than I do now, and to find that I understand my own words more deeply now than I did when they were written. Elizabeth Goudge writes, in the voice of an artist character:

‘I’ve got too far ahead in time. That happens sometimes even in photography, you know. At the time it is taken a photo is not a good likeness, yet, two years later, it is. It’s odd that it should happen in such a mechanized art as photography. In a portrait it is understandable. . .There’s a patient angel in us all, the spirit in the making. And he has two faces. He is the two things that you may be if you do this, or that. Sometimes you see the one looking out of the window, sometimes the other.’ (Elizabeth Goudge, ‘Pilgrim’s Inn’)

I wonder if the portraits, the metaphors that I write, will be accurate in twenty years, in fifty. I know already that in all of the welling years to come, I will find out how little I know now of the depths of darkness and the greatness of our God. But I wonder if seventy years from now, frail and old and child-like once more, I will discover that the child-Carreen knew things she didn’t know she knew. I wonder what will happen after all. . .

In the meantime, a childish poem resurrected and matured by a friend’s persistence:

After All 

so pain stains the windows and tears smear the pane
and we sit here and wonder if weather will ever
blow this old house down again

and you tip back your chair and you say to the wind
a pot of gold is the end of the rainbow
so what is at the beginning?

is there beginning? i thought this was the end
you’ve said it before and i’ll say it again
but this house is not gold
after all
i don’t know
if the nails will hold
after all
after All.

so pain stains the windows and tears smear the pane
and we sit here and wonder if weather will ever
blow this old house down again

and you take my hand and we follow the rainbow
from end to beginning to see
the beauty began before i ran yet after He came for me

before the tears and after the love
after nails of iron dripped with blood
and Promise bowed down from the heavens to cry:

there is beginning, this isn’t the end
it’s stormed before, it will storm again
because that house is not gold
after all
but I Know
these Nails will hold
for Eternity
after All.

]]> http://teaandfigments.com/2016/03/29/after-all-3/feed/ 1 http://teaandfigments.com/2015/10/19/we-dont-get-just-one/ http://teaandfigments.com/2015/10/19/we-dont-get-just-one/#comments Mon, 19 Oct 2015 16:25:37 +0000 http://teaandfigments.com/?p=1948 One year ago yesterday, Robert made me his wife.

We celebrated our anniversary a few weeks ago, with a trip to Iceland, and so yesterday we just spent a quiet evening with each other. We settled in with a slice of cheesecake and a glass of wine and a year’s worth of memories, and it was an evening of quiet wonder.

I could write a list (a very long one) of things I have learned in this year of being married, or things I am grateful for. But the thing which struck me with the most force yesterday was not a list of things I have learned in a year of marriage, but that, Lord willing, we don’t get just one. Marriage doesn’t end after the first year. Yesterday we celebrated one year of marriage, and it was wonderful. . . but this morning, we woke up on the first day of our second year. And I made coffee for two and my best friend kissed me when he left for work, and please God, we will get to do this another year, and the year after that, and the year after that, and my breath catches when I realize the enormity of this gift God has given us. I am so inestimably grateful for this year, so very thankful for the gift of this year that we didn’t deserve. And I am so very, very thankful that, if God pleases, we don’t get just one.

This is the first day of the rest of our lives.

photo credit: sarah marcella

My dear friend, Liz, was our wedding coordinator and did a really amazing job of pulling all of our ideas together and helping us stay organized and focused. On our wedding day, she made sure that we had time built into our schedule in case some things took longer than we expected, or in case we ran into technical difficulties. . . but she and all of the wonderful people who helped behind the scenes kept things running so smoothly that we didn’t end up needing all of that extra time. So, the day had a really relaxed, laid-back party feel, which was exactly what we had hoped for.

After the ceremony and family portraits, we still had a couple of hours before we had planned to make our entrance to the reception. We decided to move up the reception, but Robert and I were able to first sneak away for a walk and some time to just be alone together and try to realize that we were husband and wife.

The first thing we did when we rejoined our guests was our first-dance-as-a-married-couple, to the song ‘Lucky’ by Colbie Cailat and Jason Mraz.

(We get to kiss now and it is amazing.)

When ‘Lucky’ ended, James (friend and sound-booth runner) switched to ‘The Way You Look Tonight’ by Frank Sinatra, and my dad and I danced.

We wanted to encourage people to get on to the dance floor, so partway through the song, our family members began joining us and pairing off.

Now, just a word about the cheesecake. Our friend Wanda, from church, gave us an incredibly generous wedding gift: three beautiful, and delicious cheesecakes, in our choice of flavors. We picked pumpkin and mocha (layers of each), and those cheesecakes have now spoiled us for all others. I had a hard time eating anything that day, and Robert resorted to counting my bites of dinner to make sure I was eating enough. He didn’t need to count my bites of cake.  =P

The foxes were a gift I gave to Robert long before we were ever engaged, and when we were trying to decide on how to decorate the dessert table, they seemed like fitting cake toppers. We stacked antique books to put the cake stands on.

Our dear friend, Lynzie, and her husband, Leonard, flew out from Montana for the wedding. Leonard was gracious enough to do the honors as M. C. for us, and Lynzie agreed to be in charge of providing and setting up the communion table for the ceremony. We were so humbled by her giving us the beautiful antique Lord’s Supper plate and wine glass which had been in her family. She even found some special charms for the glass with our initials, a fox, and a nest of fox eggs.

After Leonard led us in prayer before the meal, we got in line to eat dinner. We had set up long, family-style tables for the reception, with no assigned seating. Because Robert and I didn’t have a head table, we got to just move from table to table as we wished and were able to visit with guests throughout the afternoon, which I really enjoyed. What this also meant is that the dinner line was strictly casual, and we wound up pretty far back in the line. People kept telling us that it was ok to cut, as bride and groom, but we really enjoyed meandering our way to the front and getting to visit with people along the way.

Dinner was a variety of homemade dips. Lita (my mom’s mom) made her famous chicken mole (a Mexican sauce), Robert’s mom made hummus, and I made marinara sauce and chicken tikka masala. We served these with corn chips, veggies, bread, and naan, respectively. Robert was excited about the tikka masala, but I had spent so long smelling it while making it that I was not excited about eating it. I was also, at this point, wondering whose brilliant idea it was (mine) to eat three different types of red sauce in a white dress.  =P

Although Robert was insistent that I eat something, ‘Don’t Stop Moving’ had just come on the playlist and we ran off for a quick dance before we ate.

I had promised to take a silly selfie with Maggie on our wedding day, and our photographer got proof.

We snuck away from the party at sunset with our photographer, Sarah, to take portraits of just the two of us. We had a lot of fun…basically all we had to do was kiss and snuggle, which we were only too happy to do. I’ve never enjoyed being in front of the camera, but this was actually fun.

When we got back from the portrait-taking, it was time to say goodbye.

Everyone outdid themselves in making it tough for us to just drive away in the Jeep. They turned our mirrors, tied up the windshield wipers, and — what really kind of scared us — unlatched the hardtop. They did do a good job of decorating it, though. Someone drew a fox on our window, and when we cleaned off the rest of the Jeep, we left the fox. It’s been through lots of rain, snow, and hail in the almost-year that we’ve been married, and while most of the fox is gone now, the tail is still on our window.

Robert got the Jeep into driving-order, and we ran away for two weeks in a cottage on the coast, and then a road-trip to our new home in New Mexico . . .

photos of our wedding ceremony.

shannon didn’t toss any leaves until the very end when she got up to mom’s seat, upon which she decided to empty her basket with zealous leaf-tossing.  =]

the next couple of photos always make me laugh. i wanted to get a picture of all of the married siblings kissing. my brother and his wife didn’t really want to stop.  =]

(he will want me to clarify that this is because they got a late start)

photos of the reception coming next.

]]> http://teaandfigments.com/2015/08/25/parachute-sky-part-2/feed/ 1 http://teaandfigments.com/2015/08/07/parachutesky-part1/ http://teaandfigments.com/2015/08/07/parachutesky-part1/#respond Fri, 07 Aug 2015 19:20:04 +0000 http://teaandfigments.com/?p=1765 ‘you said you had something to say

and, in a delicate cage, you gave me the sun.

four months we dreamed, the sun and i

of kisses and a parachute sky. . .’

On June 13th, 2014, my best friend gave me a ring with a sun-colored stone in it, and asked me to be his wife. Four months went by, four months that were simultaneously eternal and whirlwind. summer ripened. Robert and I did a lot of daydreaming and phone-talking and future-planning and wishing desperately for October. In the meantime, our people–our families, my church, so very many dear friends–came together to help us plan our wedding. And not only plan it, but craft it into something so special and meaningful and altogether lovely. It was so very humbling to be surrounded by so much love. We are inestimably grateful to you all.

On October 18th, 2014, I put on a white dress and married my best friend in his parents’ backyard. These are some of our photo-memories of that day, courtesy of our wonderful photographer, Sarah Marcella. She did an amazing job not only capturing our wedding day, but also making us feel comfortable in front of the camera. This was a pretty big feat, seeing that we are both used to being behind it! Even though I felt so much more present and in-the-moment on our wedding day than I expected to, my memory has quickly faded to just those things for which we have documentation. That being the case, I am even more grateful to Sarah for these lovely images that help us remember. I have tried to limit the number that I share here, but I was only able to narrow it down to 145 of the original 600.  =P  Also, I am still learning how to size photos on the new blog design, so please bear with me.

****

At the time of this photo, these rings had never been worn, except for a moment to make sure that they fit (mine with my eyes shut, since the ring was a surprise). Now, after nearly a year, the finish of the gold is growing scratched. The diamond has gotten caked with bread dough and cleaned off anew. Our fingers have wedding-ring tan lines. And I love every scratch, because every one is a sign that we are married people who are learning and growing and loving each other more each day. I am looking forward to these rings collecting more scratches in the years of adventures we have ahead of us. . .

My man. =]

Because we got married on Robert’s parents’ beautiful property, he and the guys got ready in Robert’s own room.

Shannon looks so proud of herself in this picture. =]

Robert’s sister, Becky, hosted us girls in her house while we all got ready. I loved the casual feel of our getting-ready time. We snatched turns at the mirror. My sister, Blair, and I traded makeup checks. Our friend, Abbey, and my sister-in-law, Darlene, helped me put on my earrings because my hands were shaking so badly. . .I wasn’t really nervous, just eager and perhaps amped up on a little too much caffeine combined with too little food. Our friend, Mrs. Youngs, brought us trays of food which my now-sister, Jessica, and Blair made sure that I ate (after informing me that the coffee that Becky made me in her aeropress didn’t count as food). My mom did Robert’s mom’s hair. My mom wasn’t really excited about the idea of wearing a corsage, so instead, our dear friends Cheryl and Maddie made two beautiful floral combs for our two moms to wear in their hair. (Cheryl and Maddie are also responsible for all the rest of the beautiful flowers that you will see in the rest of this post. They foraged for local greens and pretty plants, grew flowers in their garden, and sourced all sorts of beautiful and meaningful botanicals! Every element of the floral arrangements were selected with so much care, tact, and love.)

I was originally planning to make my wedding dress, thinking that there was no way that I would be able to find one that was in the right style, size, fabric, and price. My parents wisely pressed me to try my best to buy a dress, saying that they didn’t want me to spend my last four months at home holed up in my room sewing, especially since I was going to move away as soon as the wedding was over. So, I began the hunt. My requirements for the dress were that it be comfortable, as un-poofy as possible, and feel like ‘me’. I didn’t want to feel like I was wearing a costume. I was also hoping for a dress that would be modest, or easily-made modest, but still be pretty and flattering. It took some hunting, but I was able to order this simple gown from J. Crew. It was 100% silk, which made it so delightful to wear, and best of all…it felt dreamy and swishy, but not at all unnatural or costumey. It felt strange wearing so much white, but other than that, it felt very natural and ‘me.’ Another dear friend, Angela, made a couple of alterations (bringing up the shoulder straps and hemming it to the right length) to make it fit perfectly. The neckline was close to being high enough, but not quite, so Angela also brought up the neckline up ever so slightly, in a way that added to the style and design of the dress instead of making it look like we just sewed a chunk of fabric on to make it more modest. I love the way it turned out and am so thankful for the time and beautiful work that she put in making my dress perfect.

I made my headband out of a vintage necklace I found at a thrift store, and my mom made my veil. I didn’t want it to be at all poofy, so she made a drop-veil that didn’t have any gathers or pleats. Because the dress was so simple, she made the veil long, but still delicate with just the traditional de Leon tiny crochet detail all around the edge.

Once we were all ready, we went down the driveway to the bike path by the property for some photos.

Robert and I were so blessed to be surrounded by our siblings on our wedding day. His groomsmen were his sisters’ husbands and my brother; my bridesmaids were Blair and Robert’s sisters, Becky and Jessica. It was so special to have our family as our wedding party.

My littlest sister, Shannon, was the leafgirl (her basket was full of tiny leaves and Japanese maple helicopter seeds). Her sweet headband was another creation by Cheryl and Maddie.

I love this picture…all of the shoes, with Shannon trying to get the leaf off of the bottom of hers.

My mom.

My sister, Blair.

Now my family is bigger! My (Robert’s) mom.

My (Robert’s) sister, Jessica.

My (Robert’s) sister, Becky.

Blair, me, Shannon, and our mom.

The flowers turned out so beautiful, and so perfect. Purple foxtails and orange dahlias, eucalyptus…so many lovely things, and many with hidden special meanings.

Both the girls and the guys took some time aside to pray before the ceremony.

These hands now wear a wedding ring.

It is so surreal to think that when these photos were taken, my last name was different than it is now. We had never kissed. wWe were about to be married, but we weren’t yet. We had only hours to go…but they were still hours, separating us from each other, separating the old life from the new.

I will try to write the next post soon, the part in which those hours and minutes and moments ended and two of us became one of us. . .

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(our view from the bench where we shared lunch and where, a statement, a question, an answer, and a ring later, began to share a lifetime)

(some hikers offered to take our picture in exchange for taking theirs. until this point, nothing felt real to either of us. as soon as the shutter clicked, so did the realization of what had just happened.)

(after a tardy and expensive experience with sunscreen, and a delicious and sticky experience with gelato, we spent the rest of the afternoon roaming the beach together.)

(a fellow beachgoer obliged us with the picture below, at great cost to the dryness of his shoes.)