Knightlet #1

Howdy, Everyone!

Shortly after my last post, Hubster and I got some exciting news: Our first Knightlet is on the way! 

I wish I could eloquently describe our emotions and thoughts, but it's really very simple: we are so happy. 

Rather than trying to keep the secret, we told the whole world pretty much right away with the help of our Moby-cat:

 

While I can promise you he doesn't really have a clue that I'm pregnant, he's the only one that has reveled in the exhaustion of the first trimester--he's getting spoiled by all this extra cuddle time! 

Our parents are over the moon--which is the most wonderful thing ever, and my friends are excited, too (and maybe just a little overwhelmed ;-) ). 

And, after weeks of waiting, we FINALLY had a prenatal appointment this week and got to see our little baby (and his/her heartbeat!).

 I'm 9 weeks along, and just can't wait till December 18th! 

Talk about a new adventure!

Adventure well; Live fully.

HAK

 

Going Boldly: Atlanta or Bust!

The Hubster and I are moving tomorrow. 
The first move of our married life. 

We've been waiting, dreaming, and praying for tomorrow for over a month (and in some ways, longer). 
He'll be taking a new IT job, I'll be back to doing child care (in addition to Etsy), and we'll be closer to my family and many of our friends.

The Burrow is almost packed. I'm hiding out in our room as I type because it's the last semblance of order in our home. There are boxes and spreads of the last remnants of packing everywhere. 

This move is our dream.
But it's a little heartbreaking to leave our first little love nest. 
We spent our wedding night here. 
This was the first place we welcomed our parents to our home. 
Friends have come up from Atlanta, over from Covenant, down from Cleveland...
More than once faces have lit up in surprise at how often we have company...and just how many people you can fit in our little home! 
John painted these walls and built our furniture with love and care, turning a (very) humble mobile home into a sweet little cottage. 
We grew veggies in the summer, filled wine bottles with flowers, and hung succulents in the windows. 

Obviously we'll still do many of these things in Atlanta, 
but there's something about the first time. 
Our first home.

Woven in all these things are our friends, especially all the lovely ladies I've had to tea. 
One of them, probably the Burrow's most frequent visitor, asked me yesterday how it has been saying our goodbyes this week. 
Honestly, I've been trying not to think about goodbyes.
We're all grown up, and Atlanta isn't far--that means there will still be visits and teas...
 
But I'm going to miss hugging JE and NS almost every day, swapping chocolate chips with SS in the library, whispering in class with KR and MK, Sunday afternoons with our small group...

Then I look forward:
Meals and games and walks and talks with Mom and Dad. 
Tea and coffee with MD, MH, S&FtP.
The Reelets--who are growing up way faster than I care to admit. 
Meals and homework and life with A&AS. 
Breaks and holidays when "my girls" come to town, and we go to the Forum or out for Mexican, or a night in at our new apartment.
New friends that we don't even know yet--other newlyweds, young families, small groups, John's coworkers...
Visits from out of town friends--and a guest room to host them!
Perimeter.
My favorite bike routes.
The luxuries of Target and Trader Joe's. 
A sunroom-studio that I am determined to transform into arting heaven. 
An aquarium--and eventually a cat and dogs, too. 
The Someday Knightlets.  

I hope we'll name our new home...and all the homes yet to come. 
It's an old tradition that delights me. 
I can't put into words the rush I got when I realized that everyone was catching on to calling our home here "The Burrow." It still thrills me. I smile every time. 

So, we gather our skirts (proverbially), our belongings, and our courage and go boldly further south. 
We are blessed. 
We have been blessed here, and blessings won't stop with a move. 
We will grow--in wisdom, love, experience, relationships, blessings, and grace. 


"The Grace of our Lord Jesus Christ be with you all.  Amen."  (Philippians 4.23)

Adventure well; Live fully. 
HAK

2014

Happy New Year!

As you may have seen on Twitter or Facebook, the Hubster and I celebrated fairly simply and had a lot of fun with just the two of us and the two dogs we're petsitting. We played Monopoly (he won), sipped champagne, watched The Fall of Sam Axe, and hid under the table with the pups when the fireworks freaked them out. You think I'm joking:

Yesterday we dutifully, and delightedly ate our pork roast, kraut, black eyed peas, greens, and cornbread. I was very pleased that I managed to cook all of the above--four first times in one meal was a bit daunting--especially the greens which I bought fresh! I was glad I had saved some of our Christmas ham in the freeze for flavoring the beans and greens, too. yummmm.

Anyway, I also spent some time reflecting over the past couple of days, looking back at 2013 and ahead to 2014. I thought a lot about the "hats" I wear. 

I became a wife in 2013--a role that I love and am still growing into. 

I learned a lot about being a daughter, a friend, an adult. 

In light of two of my best friends' moms dying this past year, I have been both mourner and comforter, prayer and prayed for. We carry that weight with us into 2014--a weight of grief and a weight of the hope of glory. We're all hoping that this year brings renewed joy and peace as we weave memory and hope into our hearts. 

I continue to be a student, and, for maybe the first time in my life, I struck a healthier balance between schoolwork and the rest of my life. I was astonished that, other than in French which is really hard, my grades didn't change that much even though my quality of life did. 

I started a business, too--something that maybe surprised me as much as anyone else. Mes Aventures, Crafts & Co. started as an art shop about place and has already morphed a bit to be about all kinds of life adventures--big and small. With this rather big leap I became an entrepreneur/ small business owner and, of all things, a professional artist. 

I don't ever remember not wanting to be an artist. Whatever else I was pursuing, I always seemed to add "and an artist." in my head and heart. But after about age 6, it was always like that--a sort of afterthought. 

And yet, here I am, a newlywed in 2014 (another thing I didn't see coming ;-) ), who has decided to take a break from the education required for all those other pursuits (after I finish my B.A. this semester), to encourage and grow the "afterthought." 

But now that I "really am" an artist, I find myself paralyzed with fear of my own inadequacy. 

I didn't go to art school--I'm a lit student, teacher, and budding linguist by training. I find myself spending plenty of time thinking about art and much less time doing it. I want that to change. I don't want to just pursue the idea of art or creativity. I want to embrace and act upon them. 

So, a couple of days ago, I sat down with journal and tea to make a plan. (Just ask April: I love plans. She can tell you, too, that things rarely go according to plan.)

 Across one page I scrawled the words of Andy Warhol:

"Don't think about making art, just get it done. Let everyone else decide if its good or bad whether they love it or hate it. While they are deciding, make even more art."

That's where I'm heading this year. As I create, I know my skills will improve, as will my focus and routine. 

Maybe by the end of 2014 I won't feel so sheepish when I tell people I'm an artist. ;-) 

Adventure well; Live fully. 

HAK

Faithful, not Perfect

"Perfectionism is the voice of the oppressor;

the enemy of the people.

It will keep you cramped and insane your whole life."

~Anne Lamott

Those of you who know me may be thinking, "Yeah, HAK, about time you figured that out." 
Yeah, yeah I guess it is. 

The greatest expectations I face are the ones I put on myself. I expect too much. I want to do it all. 
Perfectly. 
I still kind of want to do "it all," or at least a little bit of everything. But I'm learning to let go of the perfect part. 

I still want a huge mess of kids. 

I still want to teach--though I'm less sure of when or where or in what role than I used to be. 

I still want a lot of pets--though I think a cow and chickens might be added to the list. 

I still want to paint and write and knit--oh wait, I'm doing that with Mes Aventures, Crafts & Co. and this blog! :-) 

I still want to travel--though when and how is up in the air, but that's maybe half the fun...

But I know there will be days when I'm impatient with the munchkins...

...when I don't get my grading done or when, maybe, I don't make the grade. 

...when I want to turn the cow into steak.

...when I never want to put myself out there in an attempt to sell products ever again.

...when I don't want to leave the house. 

But I'm not called to be perfect. 

I'm called to be faithful. 

These last few months are maybe the first time I've started to be okay with that.

I've told y'all before that I'm a business owner, (now) blogger, student, and wife. The Hubster and I got married 6 months and 1 day ago. I promised myself that I would do it all...perfectly. I would keep the house clean, cook, work, and study--and my GPA would not just stay the same, it would be better. After all, I'm only taking 14 hours, right? HA!
The house is usually picked up, but I don't mop every week any more. You know, we're all fine with that.
I do still cook, but more often in the crockpot. Again, no shame there. Crock pot soup is yummyyyy.
Work, hey, I started a company. I'm not a Fortune 500, but I loooove my job.
That GPA thing. It didn't get better, but it's still quite self-respecting. The perfectionist within has been screaming all semester that I'm a slacker and should get my act together. But, other than relatively minor bouts of stress where I've listened to that voice, I've taken steps toward more balance than I've had before.
I do what needs to be done. I do it well, but I'm not killing myself. And, do you know what, it's a wonderful thing to have time and energy to go to the gym, cook, create, even read a bit, spend time with friends, and babysit. I love it. I feel life my life is full and rich. I love that, once the hubster gets home, I pack all the homework up, and we spend a couple hours watching Burn Notice, playing games, and reading old favorites like Cheaper by the Dozen and My Side of the Mountain. And, perhaps most surprising of all, I sleep well and (usually) enough each night.

So why won't that little voice shut up?
What is it about our lives that is so out of whack that I feel a twinge of guilt when I choose to work on a painting or my knitting rather than putting those hours into writing the perfect Sociolinguistics essay?
Think about that, I'll get back to it in a second...

Until maybe a month ago, I assumed I would go to grad school as soon as I graduated with my BA. At one point I even looked at attending Oxford (and if spousal visas to England hadn't been so complicated, I might have spent last weekend in Atlanta interviewing for a scholarship, but alas, that opportunity ended before it began because you can bet your bottom dollar that I'm not going to spend months on end away from the hubster). But as the time came to apply, I became increasingly uneasy about the student debt that would be involved, the time, starting the school thing all over again, etc. After weeks of angst, a lot of time in prayer, and conversations with a few close people, John and I came to a place of peace. For right now, barring some variable we don't see at the moment, I'm going to take some time off after I graduate and see what life after school looks like--focus on Mes Aventures, Crafts & Co., maybe work at Barnes and Noble, get involved at church, breathe. Maybe the MAT will come in a year, maybe 25, I don't know, but I think that's okay.

But why was it such a hard decision?
Why have I struggled with guilt over, shall we say, "tweaking" my achievement expectations?
(here's a hint in case you've been up on the conversation at Covenant College this Fall--it has nothing to do with technology).

We live in a world where all of us are increasingly pressured to DO and BE something. And if our results, our DOING and BEING, cannot be measured in some way, we feel a twinge of failure. I probably won't achieve Summa Cum Laude next Spring. Two years from now, I probably won't be changing lives in a middle school classroom by being the best English teacher ever (haha). I wanted those things. Part of me still does. But I am not any less by not being or doing them. I'm still a child of God, and maybe His calling right now is more about living and learning than doing or being.

We are not called or meant to DO or BE in and of ourselves.
We are followers. Disciples.

I quit the rat race, y'all.
That doesn't mean I don't want to live life for all it's worth anymore--it means I DO want to live life for all its worth.
Sometimes that will mean hard work, stress, achievement.
Sometimes it will mean a cup of tea with friends when I "should" be elsewhere.
Remember what I said in my post about the old, comfy sweater? Stuff, even GPAs, don't last.
People do.
Invest in relationship, encouragement, growth.
Invest in love.

To tweak Steve Brown,
"Let's think about that. Amen."

Adventure well; Live fully.
HAK

PS I still teared up a bit when my French oral assignment was less than awesome this evening...it's a process... 

The Thing About Art

Thanks, "The Beginning Writer." :-)

I think I repeat this to myself every day. It's very, very true. Any of you ever wonder what it is like for me to be a newlywed, painting and knitting my heart out, and owning my own company? I'm scared to death. Every day I think, "What if I don't turn a profit by the end of they year?" Or, equally terrifying, "What if I do?"I don't really have an answer to either of my scary questions, but that's okay. That's part of it, too--I plunge forward (somewhat wildly at times), and pray I'll figure it out as I go.

But why is art so scary? I think all of us recognize that it is, that's why, when I taught nature study in high school, I heard more parents say "I can't paint" than I heard first graders say the same thing. As we grow up and become self-concious, we realize that art is scary. I don't know who Chuck Palanhiuk is, but I think he said something valuable:

"Your handwriting. The way you walk. Which china pattern you choose. 

It's all giving you away. 

Everything you do shows your hand.
Everything is a self-portrait. 

Everything is a diary."

Art gives us away so much that we feel the vulnerability. Every brushstroke, every stitch in my shop gives me away. Gives away that my strength is in details--not motion--when I paint, that I knit too tightly, that I'm more "classic" and less "trendy" (I try, really I do. Ask my best friend about my new leather moto jacket).

But does my art show that I am a business woman, a professional, a skilled artisan? Sometimes I don't know, but I sure hope so. While I love and respect the thousands of "hobby" sellers on Etsy, I do want something bigger. This is my job. And a lot of times, I'm scared to death. But I want it to be more than that, too...

I'm an English major with a streak of teacher in me, so I love to summarize. Here we go:

1) Art is scary. 

2) Art gives us away. 

But that's not all (if it were, we'd crawl into our fear and never create again, right?).

3) Art is valuable. Because it gives you away, it also gives your audience a way to connect with you more deeply. We artists take a big risk, and sometimes it hurts, but sometimes we are given the chance to speak from where we are or have been to someone else who really needed to hear what we had to say. 

Sidestory: I have this friend named Melissa who is a wonderful and insightful artist. One time, when I was 15, she showed me a painting of a large English cottage. Something about it struck deep in my soul, and I knew, in that moment, she had done more than paint stones, water, and grass, as beautiful as they were. In that painting, this house was hope and Home (for more on those themes, go here). I wrote on my bucket list that night: "Live in the house from Melissa's painting." I meant this figuratively in the keep-my-eyes-on-Heaven sort of way, but I also meant this literally in the visit-that-house-in-the-Lakes-District way. Have you seen these?

Scenic England Greeting Cards on Etsy

 See that top left card? That's the house I was talking about. It's called Stepping Stones (the stones across the river are the ones Wordsworth wrote about), and it's about a mile outside of Ambleside in the Lakes District. About 5 years after I first saw Melissa's painting, I spent a week living in the Garden Cottage of Stepping Stones after 5 weeks of studying at Oxford. And why was my heart set on spending time there? Because of ART. Because a painting grabbed me and wouldn't let go.

I hope I can paint things that inspire hopes and dreams like that someday. 

Finally, Wordsworth's "The Stepping Stones:" 

          THE struggling Rill insensibly is grown
          Into a Brook of loud and stately march,
          Crossed ever and anon by plank or arch;
          And, for like use, lo! what might seem a zone
          Chosen for ornament--stone matched with stone
          In studied symmetry, with interspace
          For the clear waters to pursue their race
          Without restraint. How swiftly have they flown,
          Succeeding--still succeeding! Here the Child
          Puts, when the high-swoln Flood runs fierce and wild,
          His budding courage to the proof; and here
          Declining Manhood learns to note the sly
          And sure encroachments of infirmity,
          Thinking how fast time runs, life's end how near!

Art on, mes amis! :-)

Adventure well; Live fully,

HAK