He Asked and I Answered

On September 27, 2009, Bub Easley asked me if I thought we could sit down and talk. I said, "I'd like that."
    The moment we sat down in Starbucks, Port Orchard, Bub looked in my eyes with grave determination and said, "Before I say anything, I want to know if you have any feelings for me...at all?"
    I swallowed the lump in my throat and nodded my head once, not wanting to say a word that would make him change his mind.
    Well, he never did change it. Exactly two years and four months later, on January 27, 2012, Bub asked me to marry him. And I can say without a doubt that my proposal story is the best ever.

    It was the Christ the Rock Community Church's senior high winter retreat in Bend, OR. Bub and I both went as leaders. We arrived in Bend late Thursday night and spent all day Friday on Mount Bachelor (cough cough), snowboarding and inner tubing to out hearts' content. I did in fact try snowboarding for the very first time and was shaky and utterly exhausted by the time we started packing up.

   As all the students piled on the bus, Bub told me we were going with Jeremy and Marie in their truck. I almost told Bub that I really should ride on the bus, since I was a leader and had responsibilities. But I knew his mind was made up and decided not to bother.

    We climbed in the truck along with Amanda, one of my high school girls, and as Jeremy started the truck, he said, "Kyle wants us to check out the other lodge to see if it's better for tomorrow."

    I was sleepy, content and oblivious to all of life around me. I didn't notice that Bub had left me standing in the cold next to the bus before we left so he could take five minutes to "get his GPS" and that Marie went in with him to help. I didn't notice that Kyle forgot to invite me inner-tubing on the last run of the night when he strongly suggested Bub go with him. And I didn't notice that Amanda was as quiet as a mouse in the corner of the seat beside me as we pulled up to the second lodge on Mt. Bachelor (cough cough).

    We climbed the snow bank at the side of the lodge until we had a view of the mountain range surrounding us. The last rays of a perfect sunshiny day were dancing across the snowy face of the Sisters to our left as Mt. Bachelor looked on above us to the right. I was gazing at the sisters when Bub suddenly pulled an 8x10 book out of his jacket and said, "I made this for you."

    I gasped. "Oh, Bub! That's so sweet, I love it!" He had made a hard cover picture book, summarizing our entire dating relationship. I was shocked by his creativity and thoughtfulness but also a bit confused, and quickly asked, "Do you want me to look at it now?" Inside I was thinking, "This is an awkward time, Bub, to give me a romantic book..."

    "Yeeess." He said.

    I slowly flipped the pages, smiling at memories and my boyfriend's cuteness, when all of a sudden in the corner of my eye, I realized Amanda and Marie had a video camera. I stopped breathing and instinctively decided to skip a few pages when at about the same moment Bub fiddled in his pocket and dropped to one knee. Unbeknownst to myself, I blurted out something like, "What are you DOing?!" Finally, I got to the last page: it was a picture of Bub holding a ring. But not only in the picture! In real life, Bub Easley was before in me in the snow on his knee, holding out a sparkling diamond ring, and saying, "will you marry me?"

    "Are you serious?!"

    "Yes."

    "Right now?!"

    "Right now."

    And then came the flood. I put on the ring and babbled a few more things before collapsing onto his shoulder. Through the snot and tears I whispered, "Yes...but there are PEOPLE here!"

    Bub pulled me from his neck and asked, for the sake of the camera, "Wait, what did you say?"

    "I sa-aid ye-es!"

    "Ok, good."

    After we hugged again, Jeremy, Marie, and Amanda all gathered in to be the first to congratulate us. Even though I had specifically asked Bub NOT to propose to me in front of people, it was hard to be mad about it. And we now have it on camera! ;)

    The cloud I floated down the mountain on was of creamy white chiffon and Spanish lace. I had a diamond on my finger and my hand was being held by a man...in front of YOUTH! I called my mommy and daddy and told them I was getting married (of course they knew all about it). Bub called his mommy and told her I said yes. We texted and called friends to my heart's content, and when we got back to Bend and were stormed by Kyle and the rest of the students, I had told this story about 5,000 times. But it hadn't really sunk in yet that I was officially going to be a wife.

    Thank you, Father, for my fiance! I am blessed beyond words to be able to be married to this man someday. We've already had adventures like few couples ever will, and I am excited for the many more to come. After all, I am marrying an Easley. ;)

   

I'm already stressing out, because of planning my very own WEDDING and because life is about to change and will never be the same again. But Bub and I have the Lord with us. I've been reminded that this delight is only a small glimpse of the pure joy and celebration we the church will know when we are finally home in heaven with our bridegroom at the marriage supper of the Lamb, Jesus Christ the Lord.

    And "Amy Easley" sounds pretty stinking adorable. ;) Ana ghudi kun l'arosa!

Are You Rrr-eal?!

It was a day when the sun did shine and the birdies did sing. I had a scarf on my neck, boots on my feet, and clean hair on my head, and I was about to spend all afternoon with someone good-looking. But first, I had a mission to accomplish. 

This good-looking man had a birthday coming, and my parents wished to give him a present. But because of their busy schedules, they sent me to buy the present for them: a gift certificate to a local Italian restaurant. A local FANCY Italian restaurant, that is. When you walk in, you feel you’ve just walked in to a little European café: candles, savory smells, short men who role their Rs, and lots and lots of food. When I pulled up in my little red auto, I gleefully acknowledged the “Open” sign with a pump of my fist and stepped out to get the job done. 

I stepped through the door and was greeted by two Italian men, one being the owner and chef and the other being the elderly host. I was the only guest in the restaurant. The host asked if I was there for lunch, and I replied that I was simply there for a gift certificate. He nodded and stepped behind the desk to acquiesce.  His pen began to lightly scratch the gilded paper. 

“Are you rrreal?!”

I started slightly at the heavily accented words coming from across the room. “Excuse me?”

“Are you rrreal?” The owner enquired again, leaving his task at the table to saunter up well within my American personal-space bubble. 

“I’m…um…not sure what you mean…”

“Yeah, are you real…like…are there LOTS of you, or just you?” he explained, “Because YOU are BEAUtiful!”

Oh how the flames did caress my cheeks as I gave a giggle to his thunderous belly-laugh and tried to express my…gratitude?

“Oh, hahaha, well THANK you…”

“I’m ORIGINAL, aren’t I? I bet no one ever asked you if you are RREAL before!” He continued laughing as he turned back to his task and I tried to recover my composure while the little old man kept on writing my gift certificate. My cherry-red cheeks were working over time, when he threw one last compliment over his shoulder: “You are GORRGEOUS, honey!” 

“Thank you!” I answered back, feeling like I might’ve forgotten the English language. 

Though I was giggling like a flighty minor character from a Jane Austin novel, I thought the elderly host couldn’t write fast enough; my cheeks needed relief. Soon enough, however, he was done and I was ready to be on my way. “Have a good weekend!” Old man said. 

I replied back, “You too!”

But Italian Charmer called from his table, “No not him, just you!”

I laughed once more and fell into the fresh air with relief. The cherries didn’t leave my cheeks for a good ten minutes.

Lumberjacks with a Debit Card

                “Amy, Jenny wants to get our Christmas tree tomorrow, but I have to take Nama to the doctor. Can you two take my debit card and go pick one out? Oh, and take a load to Goodwill on your way.”

                “Sure, Mom,” I answered. I love taking Mom’s debit card. 

                “And try not to spend over $50. $30 is good, and $40 is ok.”

                No problem.

                My little sister and I decided to make it a sister-date. And since all good sister-dates involve matching outfits, we both wore our flannel shirts and our fake UGGs. Never was a pair of more ravishing sisters ever spotted at Goodwill in their cherry red truck. The Goodwill boy accepted our 7 bags of clothes and CDs eagerly. 

                “Hey let’s get coffee at Cutter’s!” Jenny offered. “Oh…but I don’t really have money…”

                “Neither do I,” I said, “But I have Mom’s debit card!” 

                “Yes!”

                I gave Mom a ring and yelled 5 times, increasing in volume every time, “CAN WE USE YOUR MONEY TO BUY COFFEE?” because she happened to be in a parking garage. She acquiesced with cheer and goodwill, once she understood. 

                With our double tall eggnog lattes soon in hand, Jenny drove the little red truck to the local country market and I documented our date. We parked next to the fence surrounding dozens and dozens of beautiful trees, one of which was destined to be in our living room. Our boots crunched across the parking lot as we neared the Christmas-tree pen, pine and chainsaw filling our frozen noses and reminding us that December has come. 

                A bearded man in a jumpsuit met us inside the fence and greeted us like a farm boy. We may have giggled. He began to follow us down the rows of slain firs and nobles, and I thought to myself, “Oh shoot. He won’t ever leave us to decide. Now I feel pressured.” I determined to take my time and make sure I picked a good one. 

                We had the farm man hold out some high-altitude nobles for us to examine before deciding we wanted to go fuller this year. So he led us to the well-fed nobles, and pulled out a six-foot beauty. “Oh, what’s the price on these?” I remembered to ask.

                “Nine dollars a foot.” 

                Jen and I both silently calculated in our heads, “Nine dollars a foot…six feet…That’s just a little bit over $50. What did Mom say again?”

                We sauntered down the row and stopped short when the Helen of all noble pine trees appeared on the fence in front of us. “Can you show us that one?” Farm man did our bidding.

                “Wow…” I thought. 

                “That one,” Jenny breathed.

                She was full-figured and fragrant with just enough character and blemish to keep her from looking plastic and factory-like. Tall, healthy, and dark green, she was made to stand on our ice blue carpet while a cousin of hers blazes in our red brick fireplace. 

“All right, we’ll do this one.”

                Farm man heaved her to the side and pulled out his chainsaw to give Gorgeous a fresh cut and to remove her lowest branches. It was only now as farm man’s partner came out and Jenny pulled up the truck that I realized Helen was a bit taller than that six-footer. I tried to calculate 9 times 7 as I followed the man in doors with Mom’s debit card. 

                He punched in the numbers on his register and added the tax, and it came to a whopping $68. Oh dear… 

                On the way home, feeling like super cute lumberjacks with our pine needle princess in the truck bed, Jenny and I talked through our crisis. 

                “Jen, we just spent almost $70 on a tree…”

                “Mom said no more than $50, didn’t she?”

                “Oh man…most of our friends go cut them and never pay this much.”

                “Oh maaaan…”

                “Oh, I’ll just pay the extra $20.”

                “It IS a beauty!”

                “And we’re having fun. Mom likes us to have fun together.”

                “…With her debit card.”

                After we pulled into our driveway we got the camera out to model with our tree and the red truck. Mom arrived just in time. 

 

                “Mom, Mom…so…we might have paid a little extra.”

                “The guy wouldn’t leave us alone and made me feel pressured.”

                “And you TOLD us to go THERE…”

                “Well, how much?” Mom asked.

                “…$68.” 

                Mom’s eyes got a little big and she repeated back to us our statement that we had indeed paid almost 70 dollars on a Christmas tree. Not to mention, we also bought ourselves double tall Eggnog lattes with her money. I offered to pay her a third of the price, when she sighed and laughed and said, “No, no, you’re ok. It was enough that I didn’t have to go do it!” That’s right, when you’re a mom, time is worth money. And then Jenny threw the icing on the cake when with a sparkle in her large doe eyes, she gave us this epiphany:

                “We didn’t even HAVE a tree last year! We were in San Diego!” 

                YES. You know what this means? By a simple equation of division and cancellation (or subtraction with a dash of deductive reasoning and hope) the Christmas tree of 2011 only cost us $34: the perfect price for a beautiful tree, hunted by two sisters in a little red truck. 

               

A Favorite Picture

       My older sister Jessica and I are standing in the back of a Nissan truck on a hill in North Africa, dumping water into barrels on the ground to be used to mix concrete. The water came from a river about three or four miles away. This was the second trip to Africa for both of us, and the first trip for my parents. Many of my most cherished memories come from this place, with this sister and the rest of my family, biological and not.

Oh Give Thanks!

And I will give thanks for...

* Belonging to the Father.

* Through Jesus.

* By the Holy Spirit. 

* Fellowship with brothers and sisters.

* Disagreements that are discussed because we love each other and we care about what is true.

* Really smart friends!

* Really funny friends.

* MY SISTERS

* MY BROTHER

* The man in my life.

* PARENTS who are wise and loving.

* A job that is super fun.

* Phil, and his new Christmas album.

* Coffee with eggnog.

* A warm house.

* Chickens.

* Pink rain boots.

* Well-behaved, intelligent, and beautiful pets.

* Cute babies.

* Literacy!

* Knowing a foreign language and communicating with people I love in a far away place.

* Traveling.

* Fellowship with the body outside the barriers of my own earthly country.

* The opportunity to serve and befriend in my OWN language again. :)

* Trees.

* Beautiful boots.

* Compliments on my hair, when I haven't done anything. Created this way! ;}

* Blue eyes.

* Singing at the top of my lungs.

* "Oh Holy Night"

* FOOD.

* FOOD.

*COFFEE.

* Married friends.

* Single friends.

* Sunshine.

* Pouring rain.

* My little sister's attractiveness and adventurousness and fashionableness.

* My big sister's eccentricity and intelligence and gorgeousness.

* My big brother's handsomeness and bigness and calm, no-questions-asked, caring-ness.

* My mom's wit, patience, wisdom, and teaching-talent.

* My dad's hospitality, wisdom, discernment, silliness, and his love for the unlovable.

* Talented writers who don't ramble and use too many words like I do sometimes. Haha. 

* My special mug.

* A time to shower every day and dress to impress with earrings that match your shoes and colors that compliment, because it's culturally acceptable in your current location and it's fun.

* A time to keep from showering and wear dresses over baggy jeans, colors that don't compliment, (like plaid with paisley) and scarves every day, because it's culturally acceptable in your current location and it's fun.

* Friends who truly love me.

* Blogs

* Western toilets

* My red 5-speed car.

* Socks.

* Banana bread that my sister made at 11:00pm.

* A chair to sit on.

* Leather stools from Fez.

* Chocolate from Sweden.

* My orange coat.

* Food and shelter and relationships.

* Hope...Even when all these things pass away. 

<3

Go Bake Your Mother Some Date Bars

     This afternoon, I was thinking and interpreting life around me without depending on God’s word as my source of truth. I was depressed. I was making assumptions about my situation because of the emotions I was feeling, and I was becoming uglier by the second.  As I sat in front of my computer, deep in my moody bedroom, I slowly became a tearful extension of the folding chair beneath my rear-end. I suddenly knew I was doing just what I had vowed not to do about 3 hours earlier when life was sunny. Then I had been satisfied with God’s purpose for me. But here I was, being a brat. So I shook myself in disgust and bowed my head to pray. Soon, however, I felt the Holy Spirit tell me that my prayers weren’t going to help right now, because I was still sitting in my chair. “Amy, staying in your room will not help. Get up, go downstairs, and make your mom cookies. You can pray in the kitchen.” I responded, “Ok, Lord. I’ll do that,” and left my cave. 

     The cheery kitchen brightened my heart and Mom was more than happy to help me decide what to make, though the options were slim. When we found that we had no peanut butter, no molasses, and no chocolate chips, I pulled out the dates and declared I would make date bars. I love dates. I can eat them any way and any time. I grinned with sheer delight as I chopped the succulent morsels into gooey chunks, and reflected upon the life of desert nomads and how God provides food even in scorching wastelands. In fact, the last time I made date bars was in North Africa, and quite honestly it was like running through a gauntlet…those dates had maggots. So on that occasion, with every careful chop I was holding my breath and ready to throw the date into the trashcan at the first sign of a fat, wriggling, and lumpy worm. But huzzah! Today’s dates were from sunny California and were probably amply sprayed by chemicals before they were packaged and shipped. And now, they were mine to bake. I boiled them with water and sugar until they thickened to a pudding. Next, I mixed together flour, brown sugar, baking soda, and salt, adding melted butter and egg whites. Half of the crust I padded into the trusty 9x13 pan, sprayed with non-stick, and the date filling I spread on top, finally adding the rest of the crust. After sliding the burdened pan into the oven, eating became something to look forward to. (But when is it not?)

     As I sit here at my computer, waiting for dinner and then dessert, I know I’m already starting to feel bored and depressed again. I think now is the time to sit with my Bible and let His words be the source of my attitude for the rest of the day. Sometimes I need to get up and DO something if I’m thinking too much. And after God calms my mind through the activity, I’m able to sit down with His word and let Him fill my mind with His truth. I’m thankful for His still, small voice that tells me to “get up” when I need to get off my bum, and to “rest” when I’m going too fast, and to “get over it” when I’m only thinking of me. If you’re anything like me and think too much, consider doing things. Don’t just sit. If you do sit, be sure you are thinking on whatever is true, honorable, just, pure, lovely, commendable, excellent, and worthy of praise [Phil 4:8]. And sometimes to do that you need to get out of your dark, depressing bedroom and go make your mother some cookies. 

Back to Work

     When you come home from 5 months overseas and you know going back to your barista job of five years isn't where your heart is anymore, and when you're living with your parents and not sure what else you'll be doing for the next 3-12 months of your life, it's usually the time to look for a place of employment. For me back in September...that place was big blob of mystery. All I could think of were waitress/barista positions or receptionist jobs. (insert sub-culture reference here) I didn't want to do coffee again, because my loyalties lie with my beloved job of 5 years, and so Starbs was not an option. But what do I like besides coffee? Teaching...but there's that problem of a degree. I finally realized near the end of September that I really like shopping at REI and that it is considered one of the top 100 best places to work in the nation. So I applied, and am very thankful to say that I now have a job! I was officially hired at REI about three weeks ago, after a long and dramatic application/interviewing process.

     I began by writing my resume for the very first time. It turned out pretty great, and I was encouraged when I saw my life experiences written out on paper; I have been places. The next step was filling out the REI online application, which was extensive. I felt the first twinges of dread and discouragement when I came to the part that asked me to rate my knowledge of activities such as rock climbing, snowboarding, canoeing/kayaking, snowshoeing, cycling, camping, etc. I had to put a 0 or a 1 on most of these, though I said my knowledge of women's clothing/shoes was "3" and I got REALLY excited when at the bottom of the list it said "travel" and I got to put a 4.Mmmm-hm, that's right.

     I showed up at the job fair on Sept 29 waaaay early, and was 2nd in line at the door. As the time got closer, I looked behind me down the side of the building and saw that I was 2nd out of over 250 hopeful applicants. My odds seemed grim. Like a fairytale.

     We were in line for 5-minute mini interviews done by REI employees. When my time came, I was immediately put at ease by the friendly guy who seemed just as unsure about what he was doing as I was. Somehow, I answered every question without any hesitation and didn't even feel weird talking about myself. But he didn't ask me the one question I prepared for beforehand: "What are your strengths and weaknesses?" Phew. After this, I had to wait two days before knowing whether I was called back for a second interview or not. Even though deep inside I had an inkling from the Lord that this job was from Him and that it was in the bag, I was SURE they didn't want me. But they did! And I was called back for the second round, which was a hairy scary group interview, a week later.

     The group interview was a little fun but mostly on the awkward side. There were twelve of us in this group (there had been another group of 12 that morning) and the overall feeling in the room, to me, was something like this: "I want this job and I will fight you to the death for it, but I will pretend to be your bosom-buddy for the next 2 hours because they want to see us have fun and be friends and work together on all these interactive activities." Since this was my FIRST INTERVIEW EVER, I'm not sure how this one compared, but I really did enjoy it. And by the grace of God, I was able to be myself. I didn't talk a lot and I was honest about my "love of the outdoors" without making my experiences out to be bigger than they were. We got to perform skits and practice selling things. I was discouraged again when I was stuck as the one selling a pair of boots, and it became very clear that I had no idea what I was talking about. I went home again with the attitude of a deeply down-trodden bunny-rabbit wallowing in a pit of complete and utter despair.

     But oh how I jumped for joy and how my parents whooped and nearly cried when I received a phone call from a manager who first asked me if my requested days off were negotiable or not, and after I said yes they were, he said, "Well then I'd like to offer you a job, if that's ok." Um, YES!

     The following two weeks were back-to-back training days with the entire group of 12 new seasonal hires (who finally DID act like bosom-buddies!), and the third week was specified training for us cashiers. (I'm a cashier!) I am now fully trained and have my first official work day this week. I'm thankful to the Lord for the long process that made me trust Him with where He's taking me and with the skills and personality that He has given me and I'm excited to see how He uses this experience later in my life. Most of all, I'm thankful for the blessing of having a job and being able to support myself as I try to live life joyfully being back home again. Though there's still plenty of pain in being patient, I AM having loads of fun being a working woman again.

     "Commit your way to the Lord; trust in him, and he will act."- psalm 37:5