... it's in the way he held me the day we lost little benjamin david. it was when he quickly left work to meet me in the ultrasound room. it was the way i felt the moment when he walked into the room and i knew i could finally cry. it was in his eyes.

... it's in the way he does the dishes and folds the laundry for me when i am unable to. it's in the gladness of his heart as he does house chores he actually hates with a passion. it's the totally unconditional nature of this sacrifice he makes and in the way he tells me later how proud he is of how i keep house.

... it's in the amount of time he spent researching, praying about, and searching for my diamond and its setting. it's in the unique details he knows about diamonds in general and mine specifically, and how he continues to convey them to me. it's in the way he takes my hand into his and studies my ring again every once in a while. it's in the truly impressive quality of this lifelong symbol i wear on my ring finger above his name engraved in gold.

... it's in the way he pauses to kiss me on the steps of the front porch before he leaves for work at the crack of dawn and in the way he kisses me when he gets back home with his hands full of bags and boxes. it's in the way he smiles at me and says it's so good to see me again.

... it's in the way he tickles me mercilessly and constantly. it's when he flying tackles me if i am innocently reading a book in bed and when he stops to massage my shoulders while i am cooking dinner.

... it's in the way he asks me how i'm doing and in the way he answers the same question. it's in his honesty about how he is really doing, even if he doesn't want to talk any further about it. it's in the way he trusts me with knowing he's not doing alright and it's in the way the corners of his eyes smile when he says he's "doing well; how are you, baby?"

... it's in the way he faithfully opens my car door and offers his hand when i need it. it's in the way he is willing to freeze to death to help me unload my car on Tuesday nights ... in his boxers.

... it's in the furniture he has made for our home and the casket he crafted for his son. it's it's in the way he plots our financial course and the patience he exercises with me while explaining the finer points. it's in the plans he has for our future children, Lord willing, and the thorough research he has put into those decisions.

... it's in the way he checks the locks and the guns every night before bed, the way we share carmex, and the way he puts toothpaste on my toothbrush if i am the last to brush. it's in the way he holds me in his arms while we wait for the sheets to warm up and the darkness to settle. it's the way he squeezes me one last time before falling asleep and the way he is quiet as a mouse when he gets up before dawn to spend time with the Lord.

... it's in the way this xanga post doesn't at all do it justice.

in four days, i'll be the wife of josh burnett.

but at least we could sleep,
it’s all that we need.
when we wake we would find,
our minds would be free
to go to sleep.

(j.j.)

it rises in the (starkville) and sets in the (memphis)

sunrise, sunset.
sunrise, sunset.
swiftly flow the days.
seedlings turn overnight to sunflowers,
blossoming even as we gaze.

when in the world did thirty-one and a half months happen already? and will the next seven and a half unfold like those? in retrospect, time loses definition and is transmuted into love and learned lessons. does time seem to elapse too quickly looking backward and too slowly looking forward? i am not impatient for it's passage. God is teaching me something Today. is preparing me for Seven and a Half Months From Now. for him. for two years. for them. for four years. and that. twenty-one years. forty years. for then. and the thereafter.

(light dawns in four hours.)

the smell of coffee reminds me of that school year i used to regularly wake up extra early so i could surprise my dad with his morning cup. it recalls long conversations, people watching, book reading, journal writing, sips in solitudinous silence and staring, meetings, reunions, and that one final goodbye. it inspires feelings of rest and comfort. it makes me think of those dark chocolate covered coffee beans from fresh market and the week i spent with julia in new mexico. it takes me to the grocery store coffee aisle, to dark thirty waffle house visits, the four day drive to california, and the countless hours i spent alone studying at that starbucks on twenty second street. "God gave us our memories so that we might have roses in december" (j.m.b).

sunrise, sunset.
sunrise, sunset.
swiftly fly the years.
one season following another,
laden with happiness and tears.

(tevye)

what words of wisdom can I give them?
how can I help to ease their way?
now they must learn from one another,
day by day.

1 picture and 389 words.

nomoremono. i'm well, praise the Lord. thank you all for your thoughts, prayers, messages, cards, flowers, visits, food, and love. i am thankful to be able to return to some normalcy now, even though i am still very weak from only being in bed for a whole month. goal #1 is to regain my energy and stamina. then i can go back to work.

readysetgo. and now i am free to plan our wedding! mom is still in town with me and we are having some serious work sessions each afternoon, alice is coming over on wednesday morning, and hannah burnett has started emailing me her thoughts. being able to explore and assimilate my personal thoughts for an entire month has freed my mind to be able to truly appreciate the good advice i'm receiving from so many of my recently married friends. oh, and i'm loving interacting with josh on our wants and non-wants. we think so. very. much. on the same page.

contrarywise. so while i was out for a sunday drive yesterday, i stopped at walgreens to pick up some melatonin (because insomnia is unwelcome). after spending fifteen minutes in the store (eleven of which i spent looking for a frustratingly elusive bottle of melatonin), i place on the cashier's counter the following items: 1) a small bottle of melatonin, 2) a bar of extra dark chocolate, and 3) a seven hundred page issue of bride magazine. with that combination, i can only imagine what she was thinking about me. (wink)

autumnishere. y'all ... it's glorious. i spent this morning under the tall trees in my front yard. while i wrote letters, the sun danced on my face and the cooling air teased me with whispers of seasonal change. to me, there is something so completely captivating about the first days of autumn. they always make me feel like i should be waiting for the school bus to germantown elementary school. the air takes me back to that one year ammi hensarling went to the mid-south fair with us. and, anyway, the coolness brings the need for more hugs. so i like that a lot. i also like wearing hoodies and clogs. and i like thanksgiving. some my best memories are from thanksgivings. i think i like it more than christmas. (don't tell santa.)