If you've known me for any length of time, you know I'm just crazy about my very southern family. My grandmother, Ethel Cruise, created beautiful material things throughout her entire life. Her green thumb knew no bounds and she was an expert seamstress. My cousins and I played in the basement where there was a room with file cabinets filled with sewing patterns. She adored Christmas and I adored going to see her and Grandaddy at Christmas to see all the decorations that filled her home. Grandmother passed these creative genes down to her five daughters. One year, they gathered at various times and together created a beautiful memory quilt that they gave to her that Christmas.
It was my Grandmother and my Aunt Joann who helped prepare the nursery in my parents apartment at UNC-Greensboro for my arrival.
My earliest memories of my mom are of her at the sewing machine. In fact, it was while she was sewing that I learned the value of a well placed swear word. From smocked dresses to a flower girl dress that has been passed down a generation to Halloween costumes, Mom made most of our clothing when we were young. She would stay up until all hours, the whir of the sewing machine lulling me to sleep in the other room.
{500 yards of red yarn to make that Raggedy Ann wig!}
{I would go on to be Dorothy for Halloween two more times by the time I turned 35.
But this was by far the best one.}
{I'm pretty sure that Mom and Aunt Melba forcing us to participate in a local fashion show contributed to our need for therapy later in life. But the outfits were made with love!}
{All the girl cousins are wearing applique sweatshirts that our moms made. I'd also like to point out that I've seen Andrew's Air Jordans and my brown boots on more than one college student recently.}
It wasn't just the sewing that Mom created (although she totally hit out it out of the park when I asked for an Annie dress for my 5th birthday.) She makes every occasion special from birthdays to Christmas and little things in between. There are probably more times than I know of that she stayed up until all hours perfecting a celebration that would happen the next day for one of us. She started the tradition of my red velvet birthday cake, my needlepoint mailbox Christmas ornament, my angel ornament collection, and it goes on and on.
So this is where I come from.
I'm the third generation of women who love to create, who love to make events and things and places memorable.
I was born in Greensboro, North Carolina and spent the first six months of my life living in a Guilford Residence Hall apartment on UNC-Greensboro's campus where my dad was Dorm Director. I had a sweet little nursery that my mom created (as in, she made pretty much everything in it from scratch), and she says that I was doted on by all the college students who lived in Guilford.
(I can't begin to tell you how much I would love to have the vintage fabric in those curtains now.)
Just before I turned a year old, we moved to Blacksburg, Virginia where my dad would work in Student Affairs at Virginia Tech. While we were there, my favorite spots were the duck pond and a local sheep farm. Mom and Dad also drove a pretty sweet VW van. I would go on to wreck that van when I was three and a half. True story.
(Killer sunglasses, Mom. And yes, that's a bonnet. If I have a daughter, she'll wear one too.)
(Yup, that's me rockin' the belly shirt.)
When I was three and a half, and just before my sister was born, we moved to La Plume, Pennsylvania where my dad would be Director of Residence Life at Keystone Jr. College. We lived in a large apartment in Sickler Hall, a gorgeous Victorian building. It now houses several administrative offices for the college.
(This is the home where I would become a big sister and wreck the VW van. It was a big year for me.)
(Aunt Joann and cousin Caroline come to visit! My mom smocked that dress for me and I want to squeeze my three year old self, I'm just so dang cute.)
When Allie was about a year old, we moved back down to North Carolina, to my mom's hometown of Durham. Durham is home to The College That Shall Not Be Named (ahem), where we spent every major holiday at Grandmother and Grandaddy's house with mom's sisters and their families, and where I would end up living and teaching after college.
About a year or so after we moved to Durham, we moved to Winston-Salem. Wake Forest University gave me an incredible library for high school research papers, amazing college students who volunteered as my (oh so patient) youth group leaders and Young Life leaders.
As you may have heard, I chose the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill for my college years. I was a Resident Assistant for my last two years there and that is still one of the best jobs I have ever had. Chapel Hill is one of the top college towns in the nation and one of my most favorite places in the whole wide world. I love that we got married in Chapel Hill and spent our wedding night at The Carolina Inn. Hark the sound of Tarheel voices....
(My very first day at UNC, setting up my freshman dorm room in Hinton James.)
Even when I got married and moved off to Texas, I ended up in a college town. In Ailene there are three universities- Abilene Christian University, Hardin-Simmons University (my best friend Abby works there) and McMurry University (my mother-in-law is their head volleyball coach and my sister-in-law is the coolest sophomore on campus).
So it seems only fitting in a kind of full circle way that I am now working at a college. New students moved into the dorms at Covenant on Friday and started their orientation which will go through Wednesday. I got to work beside an amazing group of returning students (who serve on the Orientation Team) as they helped unload cars and moved the new students' belongings into their dorm rooms. They were loud and joyous and oh so welcoming to these hesitant hopeful freshmen. I had the best time hanging out with them and I even learned how to do the Dougie. Bonus.
(Keeping a close eye out for new students)
The buildings and grounds aren't just brick and grass after yesterday. It feels like a college now that the students are finally here. And I know that sounds obvious, but when you've worked in quiet buildings for over a month, to see them loud and bustling is an incredible thing.
Here's the thing, I've loved all the college towns I've lived in and I absolutely adored my own college years. But being on this side of a college is something I didn't even know to want. I am ridiculously grateful that I'm getting to experience it this way and at this point in my life.
And it's kind of nice that Covenant's signature blue is much closer to my beloved Carolina blue than that other kind of blue.
If you've been reading this blog for the last year, GOD BLESS YOU. I realize just how inconsistent I've been in writing but I think that maybe, just maybe, the blogging mojo is making a comeback. Back in December, I had every intention of the Joy project being what brought me back to my little spot of the internet that I love so much. Then there was a...detour. A speed bump. A road diverged.
And I had to take the one I have never traveled by.
Lordamercy, do I ever hope it makes all the difference.
Two days before Christmas, I resigned from my teaching position. It wasn't something I had anticipated doing, but sometimes life throws you a curveball and you have to stick the landing while you make the jump shot and roll with the punches or else you'll never sink the putt. Or something like that. Anyhow, I'm very proud of the work I did in that classroom and so grateful for the support I have continued to receive from so many of the parents, kids and teachers there. I'm not sure what comes next. It's been difficult emotionally having to process this new place. I have an amazing husband and support system {y'all included!} and I'm anxious to see what will end up filling this next chapter of my story.
In the meantime, let's get back to the joy, shall we? Brace yourself, my friends, there's a lot of pictures in this post. Let's start back where I left off, the trip down to Florida for Christmas with Mom and Allie...
Knox is the best traveler. Without fail, about fifteen minutes into any road trip he settles into a nap. His sweet freckled nose tucked into that fraggle of a tail? {16} Bliss.
It was McDonald's coffee {17}, BUT IT WAS COFFEE.
I don't remember who introduced me to the joy that is dipping a salty fry into a sweet Frosty {18}, but I can't eat one without doing so. Viva la Frosty!
It was a looooong trip down to Allie's new place near Palm Beach. Did you know Florida is really flat? Very. Nothing too terribly interesting to look at until you finally get close to the coast. Anytime I'm heading to a beach, I savor that first glimpse of the water {19}. A golden sunset over a glimmering gulf is always soothing.
I know the Carhartt overalls + my husband has already been mentioned {5}, but who says joys can't be repeated? {Let me say for the record, I asked him to pose this way {20}. But, seriously. Love. This. Man.}
My love of the magic of dusk and twilight is well documented {take a peek here and here}. So imagine my joy at a dusk shot through with purples and pinks and oranges {21}. Throw in a palm tree and you have the perfect recipe for peace.
Me, my Marmee and my Allie. {22} We have the same smile, we know each other backwards and forwards and we never get tired of making each other laugh {or laughing at each other}.
It wasn't until I reached into Allie's pantry and realized that were no mini marshmallows that I knew the childlike joy of putting giant marshmallows {23} into my hot chocolate on Christmas morning.
Joy looks like weaving my love's Christmas morning traditions {24} into mine.
And joy looks like my sister whipping out these lovelies {25} for a new Christmas morning tradition. Mi-more mimosas, please!
We missed the first big snow in Chatt while we were down in Florida. It was surreal to leave sunny and balmy Florida and drive back into a winter wonderland. But look! More freckles! {26} Only made of snow!
Jason and I got all gussied up and headed to one of our favorite spots in Chatt, The Terminal {27}, for a New Year's Eve dinner. I don't think I'll ever get tired of sitting across from my husband, enjoying really good local food and some spectacular brews.
He's slept in this position {28} since he was a wee pup and it never gets old. Never.
This dog. Eight inches of snow. Romping. {29}
Chattanooga was covered in one more big snow which actually kept us housebound for a week. Thank goodness I had stocked up for the quintessential snow day meal {30}. {Yes, that's a Muppets glass, the kind they used to sell at Pizza Hut back in the day. If you run across more of these, will you buy them for me? Pay you back, thanks!}
My dear friend and sister of my heart, Carlye {she's the one in the fantastic skirt and sassy boots}, is pursuing her joy and it is a thrill to watch her live out her calling as an artist {31}. Joy is contagious and joy was palpable as I watched her host her first art show reception down in Birmingham. She was amazing and I am inspired just watching her.
One of my {unspoken until now} New Year's resolutions was to read more, at least one novel a month. I felt like I was indulging the twelve year old bookworm in me {32} as I cozied up at a coffee shop and finished this fantastic book. If you have reading suggestions for me, I'd love to hear them!
This sculpture makes me giddy {33}. It reminds me of Jackie O and all things feminine.
There is joy in big hair {right, Amy Beth?} and there is joy getting all prettified for a night on the town {34}. I love being a girl.
Have you seen these? Fruit Loops in Cheerio form {35}. So, essentially healthy Fruit Loops. Awesome.
We're not really big on making a deal out of Valentine's Day. This year we opted for dinner at home {Jason cooked. SWOON.} and a quiet evening on the couch. Repurposing a Christmas ornament {made by the one and only Robin Plemmons} for our Valentine's Day decorations {36}? Ooh la la and lovey dovey.
When I was a little girl, it was my mom’s voice as she rocked me to sleep. My head tucked under her chin and against her chest, lanky legs sprawled across her lap and over the sharp corner of the wooden plank rocking chair’s arm. I could hear her heart beating, its endless rhythm and her sweet soprano lulling me into slumber. This was peace and this was a safe haven.
As I grew older and far too big to rock, I still craved the soothing and consistent notes that would help me drift away to sleep. There was the Fisher Price record player on Irving Street, tucked into the corner of the plain wooden dresser by my bed that played Neil Diamond and the Wizard of Oz soundtrack. In my dormer room on Hillsborough Road, there was a giant silver portable tape deck from which Amy Grant or New Kids on the Block {depending on my adolescent mood and the current level of emotional angst} might sing over me. It was in these years that our family was introduced to Michael Card and his gentle, truth-laden songs. Despite that it says it is an album of lullabies for babies and there was nary a baby to be found in our house, “Sleep Sound in Jesus” was on repeat many a night.
But the years I remember the most, the consistent stream of nights where music was essential, were in high school. I had somehow managed to acquire the Sony portable CD player for my room and my room alone. It had a special place on the bookshelf by my dressing table and every night I would slide a CD into the top before bed. I knew just how many times to push the “repeat” button so that the exact tracks I wanted would play. “Sleep Sound in Jesus” was still a favorite then. I would resist drifting off until I heard the closing words of the Barocha, “…and give you peace forever.” And then sleep would come.
To this day, I don’t remember how I was introduced to Mary Chapin Carpenter. Perhaps my mom purchased the CD and I promptly claimed it for my own. You wouldn’t believe how many times that happened. However I found it, her music captured me. Her mellow alto a calming and familiar voice that resonated with the torrent of teenage emotions swirling through me. When I was heartbroken, only track number twelve would do…
“Baby, where’s that place where time stands still?
Is it under glass inside a frame?
Was it over when you had your fill?
Here we are with nothing but this emptiness inside of us
Your smile fitting final gesture,
Wish I could’ve loved you better
Baby, where’s that place where time stood still?
I remember like a lover can
I forget it like a leaver will
It’s the first time that you held my hand
It’s the smell and the taste and the fear and the thrill
It’s everything I understand and all the things I never will”
I didn’t know at sixteen, at seventeen, all that she meant. But there was something deep down inside me, in the midst of that heartbreak, that clung to those words- it was everything I understood and all the things I never will.
Sixteen years later, I still love that song. And I still love being sung to sleep. I married a man who likes to be sung to sleep, too. When I came to bed last night, he was soothing himself after a disappointing Vols basketball loss with the DVD of a James Taylor concert. Oh, James Taylor! Talk about everything that is good and soothing and home. I crawled into bed and we listened to the sweet simplicity of his song. We let those gentle guitar plucks wash over us and wash away the worry and the regrets of the day.
My sister is currently “stationed” in Puerto Rico for the next two weeks with her ANG unit.
I use the term “stationed” loosely because so far all her texts and emails have only mentioned lounging on the beach and enjoying piña coladas.
Ahem.
My mother is also at the beach, enjoying a well-deserved vacation.
So while I am LOVING my first real autumn in three years {Hello changing leaves! Hello layers of clothing! Hello enjoying a Pumpkin Spice Latte when it’s actually cold in October!}, I can’t help but look back at these pictures with a certain degree of longing.
Enjoy, ladies. And next time? I expect one of you to take me with you.
Taylor’s story is not my story, not exactly. But I do love what this song conveys about the relationship between a mother and a daughter. I love you, Marmee….
I traveled to North Carolina this weekend for a plethora of family and friend events. The stars aligned, the good Lord smiled and they all fell on the same weekend, conveniently enough, just before my new teaching job started. Hooray! I’m going to start with the last event first, my sister’s first triathlon. Allie has been a runner for years {more photographic evidence of that was acquired this weekend as well} and has been averaging three to four marathons a year for the last two or three years.
Let’s just say I was more of the “one and I’m out” kind when it comes to twenty-six point two miles.
But she of the running genes looooves them. And with this triathlon she’s added another athletic feat to her resume. I, of course, couldn’t be prouder.
For a full album and a few more details of the morning, head over here and be inspired to take a new challenge of your own.
