Husband turned twenty-nine last weekend and we celebrated, hard.  Birthdays are still new for us together and it is so fun learning what the word birthday holds in the other's mind.  It is so fun being frivolous and proud and absolutely enamored over him.  We rented the upstairs of a downtown pub and we ate his three birthday cakes and drank celebration beers and laughed over silly cards and wonderful family and friends and their kids (because we are that age now).

And then God sent us a week of warm and spots of sun and we've had a break from our small, tiny apartment.  Our calendar is full.  Hawaii is around the corner.  And there are dates for the family bike ride and thoughts of heading North and camping plans and even talks of Christmas.

Again I find myself stepping back.  How?  How did this start to feel like home and how did I manage to marry the best man on this earth and how did we become such adults with our schedules and commitments and serious far-away goals.  How does a good God, a great God keep choosing to bless me, a drifting on-and-off stumbling about follower.

I am happy to not understand because I am finding that I love Him more for it.  This ridiculous love that I live in, hardly notice, sometimes demand-- it comes from A Being so above me and yet so close that I can feel Him rustling inside, knocking along my ribs, roughing my heart and in the moments when I do it right: when my eyes are actually open and my mind is not roaring and my heart wakes, then I am so overcome by the grace of love and in that moment He wins another part of me I had not thought to give Him.