Reflections of a Rose

This past Saturday, my family gathered together to celebrate my cousin's baby shower. When my cousin, Alison, got to a specific gift, my aunt Kathi said, "You HAVE to read the card first!" Inside was a note from my uncle Wayne that read, "This is made out of your grandmother's pajamas, so you'll always remember that she is with you." Alison reached in the bag and pulled out a beautiful pink rose-colored teddy bear, which Kathi had sewn from Mammaw's pajamas, right down to the button eyes.

Mammaw's favorite flower was a rose, which is completely reflected in her personality. As roses are used commonly in formal and elegant occasions, she was regal as well, almost queen-like. She always carried herself confidently, standing tall with an air of pride. She never entered a room loudly, always stepping and speaking lightly, but always making an entrance. Mammaw always had the best manners and held herself and her family to set of high moral conduct. There were rules in Mammaw's house, and those rules were not to be broken.

But as roses are elegant, they always have thorns. Mammaw had a zesty flair to her; a side of sassiness that could never quite be replicated. On one of our last trips to see her, Steven and I rode our tandem bike over two mountains to the picturesque valley of Belleville. Upon hearing that, as she was laying in bed with the effects of cancer apparent, she grimaced and said, "There's something the matter with you!" She always had a wit to make us laugh, and it was usually during the most unexpected moments.

As rose petals are beautiful, they had nothing on Mammaw. From her curly white hair; to those precious, playful baby blues; to the soft, perfect skin; to her hands that had worked so hard- everything about her was gorgeous. Upon meeting her, one could never grasp really how beautiful she was, like a flower that has not yet bloomed. But after time, everyone who knew her saw what was reflected on the outside, as all beauty begins from within.

And just like roses are a symbol of love, I don't believe there has been one person I've known who has loved more than Dorothy Runk. She loved her family deeper than any of us could ever comprehend and sincerely only wanted the best for us. She was never happier than when we stopped by for a visit, even if she hadn't been feeling well for weeks. And because of that love, she prayed for us day in and day out, trusting our souls to Jesus and realizing the best thing she could do is love. And she did that very, very well.

My grandmother passed away in July at the ripe age of 85 after an eight-week battle with uterine cancer. I know we all miss her deeply and it's very hard to overcome our grief from losing the best woman we knew. But just as the note from my uncle said, we will always remember that she is with us, for she will forever be our beautiful rose.

Ten Things I've Learned From One Month of Being Thankful

10) I want nothing more than to be a housewife (to be fair, I already knew this, but being thankful for cooking, cleaning, taking care of my husband, wanting to serve my husband, etc. has really reiterated it).

9) I really love nature (I already knew this one also, but the beauty of it everyday amazes me, and I am genuinely thankful for it. I can't wait to live in the woods).

8) Thankfulness is far too under-rated and under-appreciated. I can only imagine what a great place this city and country would be if people took time to be thankful for what they have, instead of complaining about it or what they are lacking. I have a whole lot of stuff to be thankful for, and not a whole lot of stuff that justifies complaining.

7) I get really weepy when I am floored by some of the things I am deep-down thankful for.

6) I have a very difficult time being thankful for people. I'm not a people-person in the least (read: AT ALL), and it is something on which I need to work very hard. People are, after all, God's greatest creation.

5) Thankfulness is an active choice, not a passive feeling. And it deserves full recognition more than one day a year.

4) "Blessings" and "being blessed" are a completely foreign concept to most people. Which leads me to think, how can I be a blessing to others everyday? Yikes. Heavy thought.

3) Thankfulness is directly correlated to temporary happiness and permanent joy, peace, and hope. The future can be a scary thing to my little human mind, but if I recognize my blessings now, I know I will have abundant blessings in the future as well.

2) IT IS HARD. Being thankful everyday and finding things to be thankful for is a mindset change, not flippant decisions. It's exactly like when people start to lose weight- it's hard because it's a lifestyle change, not a temporary solution.

1) The things that I am most thankful for I don't deserve at all, and are 100% irreplaceable. They deserved to be treasured and recognized as a gift everyday. Thankfulness helps me see the true value in what is around me.

Home

Everyday, I am grateful to have a home.

"Home" used to be the house I would arrive to everyday and know my family would warmly greet me (or tell me to "stop slamming the door!") when I arrived. When Steven and I were dating, I knew I wanted to have a home with him someday because I never loved life more or felt more secure than when I was with him. Then we got married, and moved 3 times in our first 15 months of marriage.

Talk about shaking up the definition of home.

I loved our first apartment- a 700 square foot place that has so many good memories, but we knew from the outset that it wasn't permanent. We moved to Pittsburgh seven months later, and although I loved it dearly, I was never settled and felt pretty home-less. I was going in between two places, both of which could not have been better for the emotional support I needed, but there was no place I could plant my feet and know I would be able to see Steven everyday, which was suddenly reminiscent of our dating years (except it was "short distance" as opposed to long, and that was a weird adjustment since we were married...)

While in Pittsburgh, we dedicated a lot of our time to finding a somewhat permanent home back in Arlington. For months we number-crunched, prayed, looked at listings, drove miles back and forth, and then finally, we found it: our first home.

Sitting in the shire of Shirlington, it's a bit of an ugly duckling to be sure, but it is perfect in everyway. The kitchen appliances from 1981, the wallpaper (OH, the wallpaper!), the mirror that takes up the entire wall in the bathroom- none of it matters, because for the first time in my married life, we are settled, in our place that we own, and I get to see Steven everyday.

In our own home.