The Boboth Blog-oth

365 Days

2014-08-02T10:44:00.001-07:00

I’m a sentimental fool. I have always been one who loves to celebrate anniversaries and who has a strange penchant for remembering (and therefore celebrating!) random dates. Anniversaries of our first date, anniversaries of our first kiss, anniversaries of the day we met… you get the point. It is fun, it’s weird, it’s just who I am. I also find myself often reflecting aloud with Cole, “Do you remember what we were doing a year ago right now?” With these last few years chock full of change, it is fun to remember and reflect on how much can change in a year. For example, on our wedding anniversary this year, we were marveling at the fact that we spent last year’s anniversary in Hawai’i watching a tropical storm buffet a beach full of palm trees while crew teams raced the waves in the distance. We’ve looked back and marveled at how our family has changed in a year – new babies, new cousins… all sorts of new additions.

This penchant for remembering is all well and good and actually kind of fun for things like that. Then, July 22, 2013, happened. And sometimes, that same penchant for remembering is not such a blessing.
My grandmother went in for a routine surgery from which she never recovered. And thus began a two week flurry of emails, texts, phone calls and tears. And then, one year ago today, my grandmother's faith became sight, and the heavenly chorus gained one heck of an alto.

So, these last ten days have been full of very hard “Do you remember what we were doing a year ago today?”s. They are full of memories of uncertainty, fear, deep sadness, and long, dark nights. It amazes me how all the feelings can come flooding back without a moment’s notice. Grief is a funny, fickle thing.

We've now lived 365 days without Grandma. The gravity of it all is sometimes so overwhelming. I’m still not used to Grandpa arriving for dinner solo. I’m still not used to receiving mail signed only by Grandpa. I still have “Gma & Gpa B” programmed in my phone and my heart does weird flip-flop things when I see it pop up on my caller ID. I can still occasionally smell her perfume in their house. Even after 365 days, I’m still not used to life without her.

I suppose such is the process of grief. I have heard it said that the hole in your heart left by the absence of a loved one does not shrink with time; rather your heart grows with time to where the hole is still very present and certainly no smaller, but it no longer feels so big, so consuming, so cavernous – slowly dwarfed by the passage of time, the presence of life. They say the first year is the hardest. (Whoever ‘they’ is) And this year has, in so many ways, been so very hard. There is so much that has happened in my life that I wish desperately to share with her. And, in many ways, I still can’t quite believe that she’s gone.

I suppose it will get easier as time continues to go by, though I’m not sure I want it to. In a way, the pain of grief still feels like a way to hang on to her, to make it feel like she’s not really gone. Though we do not grieve as those who have no hope, we still grieve. It’s hard to believe that it has already been a year and it’s hard to believe that it has only been a year and it’s hard to believe that we have so many more years to live without her. So tonight, I’m going to pour myself a glass of Chardonnay, splash two ice cubes in it, and sit at the piano and remember her incredible, beautiful life and the blessing it was to bear witness to it for nearly 25 years.

August 2nd will never be the same and I will never be the same.

Seasons

2014-07-24T07:34:00.000-07:00

I have ten minutes left in the morning before I have to dash out the door and head to work. He’s sitting on the couch reading a commentary (probably on Romans), his empty cereal bowl rests on the coffee table in front of him and the fresh scent of his cologne hangs in the air. I could empty the dishwasher or double check my inbox one more time or fold that last bit of laundry; but, instead, I find that open spot next to him on the couch and settle in. His hand finds mine and he tells me about how he’s been praying for me and how he’s so glad he married me and all I feel is wonder. Wonder and gratitude. What outrageous Grace is this that I can call him mine.

In what very little I know of marriage, having only lived it for four years thus far, it seems that marriages often go through seasons of change. For us, there have been seasons of inexplicable conflict, quick criticism, irritability, and general frustration. (Most often due to my selfishness) And there have been seasons of equally inexplicable peace and oneness, ridiculous fun and laughter, passionate love, and sweet, sweet friendship… Most of the time this whole thing is really easy, and sometimes it is really hard and always it is really, really worth it.

I know a time will come when other distractions - in the form of heavier workloads, busier schedules or perhaps even diapers - will plunge us into new seasons of spread-thinness and exhaustion and leave little time for quiet mornings on the couch holding hands. So today, I am thankful for this season. For the respite and the shoring up of resources and the mysterious oneness that marriage brings. For the man whose hand I hold and whose prayers I hear whispered in the early mornings and whose warmth I find in the late nights. I’m thankful for the Grace that holds us together on the days when everything else seems to be trying to tear us apart. And I am so, so thankful that I am his.

Bursting

2014-07-17T10:57:00.000-07:00

Two months ago today, my husband walked up the steps and across the Pacific-black-and-red platform to accept his diploma and doctoral hood. It was a hot, humid day in May when, surrounded by my family and his, I watched my husband finish his journey as a student and step into his new role as Doctor. (I only cried a little) Four years, three major Boards exams, four different preceptorships, and countless hours upon hours of studying later… we’re done. This post has surely been a long time coming, but – as it is wont to do – life inevitably hit “fast-forward” the moment he crossed the platform. And here we are, two months later.

Dr. Cole Boboth. I could not be more proud. “Proud” even seems the wrong word. I suppose it would be more accurate to say that I could not be more honored. I feel so honored to have been the one chosen to stand on the sidelines of this journey of his, cheering him on and watching him excel and grow into one incredible doctor. Guys, can I just tell you about my husband for a second?

Here’s the deal: Optometry school ain’t no joke. It’s four intense years of studying, dilating, refracting, studying, testing, and studying and studying and studying. It’s a lot of material and a lot of work; and it takes a lot of time. And you know what? He’s done. We’re done. And through it all, Cole maintained the most incredible attitude and balanced his roles as husband and student with amazing grace.

It certainly was not easy, no. However, in the midst of the late nights and the big tests and the multiple relocations, these four years have been a phenomenal display of God’s faithfulness and grace in our lives. I want to sit here and spill ALL.THE.WORDS. about how amazing my husband is and how hard he’s worked and how sacrificially he’s loved me and how proud I am to call him mine – but if we’ve learned one thing over these last four years at all, it’s that it was never about Cole in the first place. Granted, Cole worked his hiney off and I am humbled and grateful beyond words at how God has blessed Cole’s hard work; but even then, it’s not about that.

These four years have been so, so sweet and so, so hard. They have been years of God wrenching from my hands plans that I’ve held too tightly – only to be replaced with plans far better than we could have dreamed up. They have been years of late nights riddled with anxiety, as God gently put His finger on places in my heart over which I warred for total control. They have been years of discomfort, as we struggled to find our place and establish friendships in a new city – and then, as we had to say goodbye to those friends who had become family. They have been years of selfishness, frustration, and sanctification, and God (oftentimes through my husband) graciously reminded me that all is grace. They have been years of ridiculous laughter and hormonal tears and so many more games of “Four on a Couch” than we can count. They have been the very best four years of my life, spent by the side of my very favorite person. And I am so stinkin’ grateful.

This journey has been so long and so very short. And here we are at its end – a teensy bit travel-weary, a little overwhelmed, and so, so, so very grateful for the way in which we’ve seen God work in our lives through it all. And now we stand at the beginning of our next adventure – excited for what’s to come and eager to trace the faithfulness of our Father in the journey.

Spring Update

2014-06-01T16:34:00.001-07:00

Somehow, I blinked and nearly half of the year has passed. The newness and hope of a new year still seems fresh to me, and yet, January 1^st was ages ago. This year. Sheesh. It's been pretty crazy so far; and I feel like I'm always playing catch-up. So, here's a brief snippet of what we've been up to:

We celebrated the New Year with our family in Colorado while we were there for Cole's third rotation. Oh man, Colorado just might have stolen my heart. Our time there was so sweet, so refreshing and, in many ways, so healing. We lived with Cole's aunt, uncle, and cousins - and it was wonderful. I didn't work while we were there and spent many long mornings over coffee talking with Cole's aunt and cousin. I read a ton and cooked a lot and spent a lot of time with Cole's family who loved us unreservedly and extremely generously. Our time in Colorado was so, so precious. I could go on and on, but words just can't capture the sweetness of that season. Needless to say, it was super hard to leave.

In mid-February, we roadtripped back to central Washington where we lived with Cole's parents during his last rotation - and where, consequently, we'll be to stay. Cole enjoyed his final rotation immensely and I enjoyed spending time with my wonderful mother- and sister-in-law. And, we both appreciated being just three hours away from Portland and three hours away from Spokane - two cities that house so many people we love. It has also been so nice knowing that we are here to stay. After a year of moving, I'm excited to start putting down roots, and I couldn't be more thrilled to be living so close to family. In March, I started working at a local grant writing company and have enjoyed the opportunity to stretch and grow and learn something new. (and to get to write!)

Nearly a month ago, the house we've spent over a year planning was finally finished and we were able to move in. With the help of a lot of friends and family, we have slowly unpacked boxes (some that haven't been unpacked in over 4 years!) and have started to settle in. I've loved making it "home;" and I still can't believe that we get to live there.

And two weeks ago, my husband walked across the stage, received his doctoral hood, was handed his diploma, and officially finished optometry school. I could not be more proud of this man and his incredible work ethic and discipline.

As we reflect over the last five months, I am so humbled and in awe of God's faithfulness, grace, and utter generosity. Despite the darker moments where my faith was lacking, He has continued to shower us with far more grace than we could ever deserve. Grace in the waiting, grace in the disappointment, and grace in the provision.

And we're looking ahead to a ridiculously busy summer. Hold on tight, it's gonna get crazy.

1000 Gifts: 981-1000

2014-05-25T17:59:00.000-07:00

What an incredible 1,000 days. God has been so very gracious.

**The Final Installment of 1000 Gifts**

981.	Dinner with Josh & Marisa.
982.	A kitchen sink.
983.	Edgecomb Gray.
984.	Easter Candy.
985.	A sunny Saturday.
986.	A surprise package in the mail.
987.	Libraries.
988.	A fully charged iPod.
989.	Looney Toons.
990.	A passing score on Boards!!
991.	The keys to our house.
992.	Easy returns.
993.	Grandma's piano.
994.	Sharp knives.
995.	A breakfast date with Elsie.
996.	My husband's humility.
997.	A good top coat.
998.	A supportive family.
999.	4 years of Optometry school, done. And one incredibly hard-working husband.
1000.	Dr. Cole Boboth.

1000 Gifts: 881-980

2014-04-30T21:03:00.000-07:00

Hold on. Did you catch that? Did you see the title of this post? Do you see that we're under 20 days away from finishing this project? Today, we are 2.5 weeks away from Cole's graduation. Though at times, this project has been tedious, and there have been days where, to my great shame, it has been hard to find unique things to be thankful for, I am thankful. I am so thankful for this reminder of these 1000 days and of God's everpresent faithfulness and generosity to us.

**The 45th, 46th, 47th, 48th, and 49th Installments of 1000 Gifts**

881.	Trying new recipes.
882.	The generosity of strangers.
883.	The catharsis of writing.
884.	The way he makes me laugh.
885.	An overflowing laundry basket and a weekend well spent.
886.	Dinner rolls.
887.	Cheese curds.
888.	Hide and Seek with the cutest cousins.
889.	A weekend in Pueblo.
890.	Clorox Bleach.
891.	My father-in-law.
892.	Countdowns and anticipation.
893.	Heavy duty foil.
894.	Pizza stones.
895.	Double ovens.
896.	Cilantro.
897.	Dishwashers that work.
898.	An evening of laughter with family who are friends.
899.	An afternoon of proof-reading.
900.	Tea and Yo-Yo Ma on a cold afternoon.
901.	Sleepovers.
902.	Fresh scones on a Saturday morning.
903.	Raw sugar.
904.	Margeaux Jean.
905.	Flirty emails from my husband in the middle of the day.
906.	Avacados.
907.	Happier Hour.
908.	Brussel sprouts and balsamic reduction.
909.	When the waiter keeps the water glass full.
910.	The word "boulangerie". Thank you, Kelly Anne.
911.	Gorgonzola mashed potatoes.
912.	Earl Grey Tea.
913.	Amazon Prime.
914.	When the logistics work out.
915.	Free couches.
916.	Taco night.
917.	Sermons online.
918.	My guy and his incredible servant's heart.
919.	Patio poured.
920.	Missing those dear to you, knowing the longing exists because of the deep love that is there.
921.	A new yoga mat.
922.	58* in February.
923.	Sunnyside sunsets.
924.	My Dad's wisdom and encouragement.
925.	Hearing Margeaux Jean coo through the phone.
926.	Afternoons with Carrie.
927.	A new job and a God who provides far more than we can ask or imagine.
928.	Praying with my Mother-in-Law.
929.	A fresh trim.
930.	High school drama productions.
931.	Friday night date night.
932.	New nail polish.
933.	Cello music in the morning.
934.	Weekend roadtrip planning.
935.	Garage door openers.
936.	A phone call from Stacie Joy!
937.	A baby shower for Margeaux Jean.
938.	The Moby wrap.
939.	A family wine tasting.
940.	Taco salads with friends.
941.	Progress on the house.
942.	Kombucha.
943.	White cabinets.
944.	Dinner with Kelly Anne.
945.	Singing with my sister.
946.	Pedicures with my mom.
947.	A long voicemail from Uncle Andy.
948.	Knitting progress.
949.	Finally finishing a book.
950.	Skinny Vanilla Lattes.
951.	Good books and gutsy authors.
952.	Boyers coffee and memories of Colorado.
953.	An afternoon with Beth.
954.	Thai with Kendall.
955.	An easy chocolate cake recipe.
956.	A late night watching the Mariners.
957.	A clean bill of health.
958.	VRBOs.
959.	Long Saturday morning talks with my mother-in-law
960.	A busy day at work.
961.	The first 80 degree day in the Valley.
962.	Movie date with my mother-in-law.
963.	A Mariners' win!
964.	Cheap airfare.
965.	When I find my phone charger before the phone dies.
966.	A good blog.
967.	Freshly dusted rooms.
968.	Spring rain.
969.	Pad See Ew.
970.	24 years of Cameron Boboth.
971.	Sliders for dinner.
972.	26 years of Carrie Boboth.
973.	Double strollers.
974.	A productive lunch meeting.
975.	Starting a new project.
976.	Not-so-subtle reminders that I am not in control.
977.	Successful surgeries.
978.	A walk with my nephews.
979.	A weekend with Margeaux and her parents.
980.	Giggling twin nephews.

1000 Gifts: 741-880

2014-01-27T09:26:00.002-08:00

**The 38th, 39th, 40th, 41st, 42nd, 43rd, and 44th Installments of 1000 Gifts**

741.	28 years of Brian Matthew.
742.	Gorgonzola on my burger.
743.	A long weekend with family.
744.	Double dates.
745.	Haircuts in the kitchen.
746.	Old friends at church.
747.	Dinner with Grandpa.
748.	God's perfect timing.
749.	A nice, long phone call with my mother-in-law.
750.	The wind and the rain: a powerful testament to their Creator.
751.	Mail.
752.	Chips Ahoy Cookies. The soft ones.
753.	Sunday afternoon football.
754.	Vera Water and Power.
755.	My sister's wisdom.
756.	A thought-provoking book.
757.	Christmas Shopping.
758.	The selfless way my husband serves.
759.	A freshly mown lawn.
760.	Basil from the garden.
761.	Flowers, just because.
762.	Smoothies for breakfast.
763.	Coming home to dinner - already made.
764.	Fall - all of it.
765.	"Rusty Pipes."
766.	The farmer's gloves.
767.	An aged ledger scrawled with grandpa's meticulous handwriting.
768.	New seasons.
769.	God's faithful provision, time and again.
770.	Chicken Holy Basil.
771.	Thai food with my mom.
772.	A crisp fall morning.
773.	My dad's wisdom.
774.	Leftovers.
775.	Candy corns & peanuts.
776.	A 70 degree day in October.
777.	A weekend away at the Davenport.
778.	Exploring our city like tourists.
779.	The smell of fresh bread baking.
780.	Christmas shopping done early.
781.	6 more months of car insurance.
782.	A long weekend with our niece and nephews.
783.	Extra burp cloths.
784.	The pumpkin patch.
785.	Pumpkin donuts.
786.	Walls and a subfloor. (!!!!)
787.	Cheese-Its.
788.	An encouraging text from my sister-in-law.
789.	Thiessen. There, Mom, I said it.
790.	Appreciation from the boss.
791.	Frozen pineapple for my smoothie.
792.	Making soap with my sisters.
793.	Portland in the fall.
794.	Discounted gas.
795.	An Amazon box in the mail!!
796.	Risotto.
797.	A mall, all decorated for Christmas.
798.	A long, quiet Saturday morning and time to savor the coffee.
799.	Work family.
800.	Mulled Cider candle.
801.	Repurposed leftovers.
802.	Cider pressing.
803.	Last days, turning in keys.
804.	Fritos.
805.	Ricotta gnocchi.
806.	Girls' day with my mom.
807.	26 years of Cole Boboth.
808.	Leggings.
809.	Time to enjoy a third cup of coffee
810.	Red Starbucks cups and a long coffee date with my sister.
811.	A family dinner.
812.	A warm, clean house.
813.	Christmas lights hung
814.	Grandpa's hugs.
815.	Time at the piano with Kelly.
816.	A long evening conversation with my dad.
817.	Snow tires.
818.	That God forgives, preserves, instructs, teaches, and delivers me.
819.	Hotel points, and a free stay. (Thanks, Dad!)
820.	Audiobooks.
821.	A safe roadtrip.
822.	Harp music.
823.	Raw sugar.
824.	Sunday night football - with a full house.
825.	Excel spreadsheets.
826.	Facetime.
827.	You've Got Mail.
828.	A run with the Rockies in the background.
829.	Colorado family.
830.	Phone calls from home.
831.	A walk in the sunshine with my Love.
832.	White Christmas.
833.	Spending the afternoon in the kitchen.
834.	Cooking with GramGram.
835.	The way the sun hits the snow and it sparkles.
836.	A trip home.
837.	A full night's sleep.
838.	"No way! Me too"
839.	Safety on a slick road.
840.	A warm home.
841.	Grocery shopping early in the morning in an empty store.
842.	Dinner date with my parents.
843.	Girls' lunch date with my mother- and sister-in-law.
844.	Sheri Boboth.
845.	A sister lunch date in The Dalles.
846.	Earrings turned into magnets.
847.	All the Schlects, in one place.
848.	Engagements and new family members.
849.	Mah Daddy.
850.	Chik-fil-A. Oof.
851.	A phone call from my niece.
852.	All of the Boboths, in one place.
853.	Late night talks with my guy.
854.	A full house of people I love.
855.	Sleeping babies.
856.	Homemade tamales and margaritas.
857.	Marrying into such a great, loving family.
858.	Walks with Stacie Joy!
859.	A clean floor.
860.	Good lotion.
861.	A good, deep clean.
862.	A glass of chardonnay, raised in Grandma's honor.
863.	A year of memories, heartache, laughter, and so so much love.
864.	Downtime.
865.	Spring Rolls.
866.	Fresh snow.
867.	Crate & Barrel.
868.	Peanut sauce.
869.	New yarn.
870.	Heating pads.
871.	A weekend at the cabin.
872.	Prayer.
873.	The body of Christ, working together.
874.	Domino's Pizza.
875.	Football Sundays.
876.	Smitten Kitchen.
877.	Siding!
878.	An unexpected lunch with people I love.
879.	A supportive family
880.	An afternoon in the kitchen.

...And a Happy New Year

2013-12-30T10:25:00.001-08:00

I went to Grandma's grave today. Those words are still bitter on my tongue. Seeing her name carved in the silvery granite like that sent a shiver through my spine, though the sub-zero temperature outside didn't help things either. The phrase "carved in stone" came to mind, and I was once again struck by the definitive finality of this. That she's gone. That she's not here anymore. And she's not coming back.

******

I wrote those few sentences almost a month ago when I was home visiting my parents. My mom and I had stopped by the cemetery while we were out running errands. It shook me so deeply, but when I tried to string words together in an effort to process it all, that was as far as I got.

The depth and breadth of my grief has continued to take me by complete surprise. I had known that I loved her deeply and I had known that she had a profound impact on my life. What I did not anticipate was the incredibly profound impact she would have on my life in her death. Grappling with the idea of death, losing someone I love, and the fact that - unless Jesus comes back very soon - I will have to continue to say goodbye to those that I love. This grappling rocked me to my very core.

This holiday season has been extremely difficult - being the first without her. She is so much a part of my holiday memories, it is as though it didn't feel like the holidays without her there: without her beautiful voice calling to sing me "Happy Birthday," without singing carols with her around her piano, without her welcoming hugs and the lingering scent of her perfume, without that twinkle in her eye....

Today, December 30, she would have been 81. Today, we will raise a glass of Chardonnay (with two ice cubes in it!) in her honor - remembering the incredible woman that she was and the multitude of ways that she so profoundly impacted my (and so many others') life. Today, I am thankful. Thankful for the 25+ years that I knew her, thankful that I see bits of her in me, thankful for the woman who brought so much love and music to our family.

As we enter 2014, the first year without her, I pray that our grief would grow to joy, knowing - with as much assurance as we can have here on this earth - that she is ringing in the New Year with greater joy than she has ever known.

Happy Birthday, Grandma! We love you and miss you more than you could ever know.

It Gets Better

2013-10-26T15:03:00.000-07:00

Yesterday after work, we caught a late lunch at a local fire oven pizza place in northwest Spokane. After lunch in an effort to soak up the stunning fall colors, Cole took me to the nearby state park - where he proposed nearly four years ago.

The air was crisp and the colors breathtaking as we walked up the path to the scenic overlook. He held me close to stave off the chill - just like he did on that January day four years ago. We stood there marveling at the view, the colors, and the journey we've been on these last four years. He quoted the poem that he wrote for me for the proposal, we tried to find the exact location where he dropped to his knee, and we retraced and reminisced every step of that sweet, sweet day.

We got back in the car to head home, and with every curve of the winding road back to the highway, I thought back to what it was like, driving those roads with a new title, fiancée, calling all of our family members, and just wondering aloud over and over again, "We're getting married. We're getting married!" The details of that day are so ingrained in my memory, and I hope I never forget.

As we stood in that place where, almost four years ago, Cole asked me to be his wife, I could not help but to reflect on how much has changed since that day. Standing there, with tears streaming down our faces in the icy January wind, we had no idea what lay ahead. We couldn't anticipate the challenges, we couldn't fathom the joy. We knew it wouldn't be easy, but - at that point - we didn't know just how much we didn't know.

I knew that I loved the feeling of his strong hand in mine; now, I know better the source of the strength and commitment behind that hand. I knew the thrill of the romance at being pursued by a wonderful, godly man; now, I know the thrill of the romance at being known, so totally known. I knew that he made me laugh; now, I know of the deep, deep joy of sharing my life with this man. I knew that he loved me then; now, I know better how he sacrifices daily for my good, often at great cost to his convenience. I knew that he loved God; now, I know the early mornings or late nights of long reading and quiet prayer and the deep-seeded yearning to discern and do His will. I knew that I couldn't wait to be his wife; now, I know that I wake nearly every morning and marvel at God's grace in giving me another day as Mrs. Cole Boboth.

I look back on that couple, standing at that overlook, giddy with excitement, and I can't help but laugh at how grown up we thought we were, at how we thought we loved each other, at how little we truly knew. I'm sure, years from now, I will look back on my 25 year old self and laugh for the very same reasons; but, this I know: marriage is harder than I ever thought it would be, marriage is infinitely sweeter than I ever thought it would be. And, my friends, if these past four years are any indication, it only gets better.

The Latest

2013-10-17T15:51:00.000-07:00

I've come to this space so many times in the last month, and I've turned right around and walked away. I've started posts and ended posts and completely erased everything I've written. I'm wrestling with this space, that is nothing new. I've often wondered what to do here, how much to share, what to keep just for us. And then, my grandmother died and a lot changed. It seems like I see everything through a new filter, and there is a lot that seems far more trivial than it ever did.

Having shared bits and pieces of her here on this blog makes it suddenly feel like some sort of sacred space. As in, how can I come here and dance lightly with the silly things in life all while grappling with this deep, deep loss. Such is the balancing act of grief, I suppose: recognizing the need to honor the memory and cherish the past, while growing and changing and moving forward.

That said, I suppose it's about time for a trivial update.

Many days lately, I have felt left in the dust, scratching my head as to how it can even be possible that we're over halfway through October. Riddle me that, my friend. Wowza. Where is this time and why has its marching cadence seemingly accelerated exponentially?! We are now just under three weeks away from finishing Cole's rotation here in Spokane and heading to our next chapter in Denver, Colorado.

This time in Spokane has been so sweet, but oh-so-fast! Cole has been working 12 hour days, and God, in His outrageous provision and faithfulness, has blessed me with a full-time job as well. With the days and weekends so jam-packed, it's no wonder the time has flown. While we've been here, we have enjoyed reconnecting with old friends, exploring old stomping grounds, and a few weekend trips to central Washington to visit our niece and nephews.

One weekend, we were blessed with two nights at the Davenport Hotel. It was a sweet, sweet time of reconnection with this amazing guy with whom I'm blessed to share my life. We explored downtown Spokane like tourists and enjoyed every bit of this beautiful Spokane October we've had.

Last weekend was spent with Cole's family in central Washington: pumpkin patches, football games, and the most incredible niece and nephews we could ask for! Every visit back there makes us that much more excited to be settled there in February.

With the remaining time we have left here, we're taking a quick trip to Oregon and one more trip back to Sunnyside before we leave for Colorado. It's hard to believe how quickly the time has flown. It feels like we just stepped off the plane from Honolulu. We're nearly halfway through this final year of Cole's schooling, and we could not be more thankful or in awe of God's provision through it all.

1000 GIFTS: 641-740

2013-10-03T18:27:00.000-07:00

**The 33rd, 34th, 35th, 36th, and 37th Installments of 1000 Gifts**

641.	A timely text from a friend back home.
642.	A glass of wine and a lingering conversation with my true love.
643.	Time in the Word.
644.	Kona Coffee.
645.	Literary 2x4's to the face.
646.	Free Shave Ice. Boom.
647.	Reconnecting with old friends.
648.	Becoming an aunt - again - x2.
649.	Grace in the hardware store.
650.	A reminder to trust.
651.	Double rainbows. (All the time, here!)
652.	Planning trips.
653.	Modern medicine.
654.	New friends and great conversation.
655.	Date night in Waikiki.
656.	The North Shore
657.	Exploring our new home.
658.	Kayaking with the wind at our backs.
659.	Grilled chicken.
660.	Planning for the future together.
661.	Aloe Vera.
662.	Generous landlords.
663.	Pina Coladas by the pool.
664.	51 years of life for my mama.
665.	Scary diagnoses, and a family that rallies together.
666.	A gracious boss.
667.	Pregnancy announcements. (!!!)
668.	Sunscreen.
669.	Fresh pineapple
670.	Fireworks seen from the backyard
671.	A visit from family
672.	Boogie boarding with my sister
673.	Tiki torches
674.	Beer and burgers for girls day out
675.	Mahi-mahi
676.	Spending the 4th with family
677.	Good late night conversation
678.	Makakilo Baptist Church
679.	A non-squeaky shopping cart
680.	The opportunity to housesit
681.	Mango salsa.
682.	Learning to embrace the quiet.
683.	Productive days-off.
684.	Quiet time.
685.	Three years as Cole's wife.
686.	Free milkshakes.
687.	Fresh tomatoes (!!!)
688.	A great biography on the beach.
689.	Experimenting in the kitchen (and having it turn out!)
690.	A surprise day off with my man!
691.	Reading through old journals and tracing God's faithfulness through our lives.
692.	Breakfast with old coworkers!
693.	A phone call from a former student of mine.
694.	Peanut sauce and mangoes. Try it and thank me later.
695.	An air-conditioned library
696.	Grandma's safe surgery
697.	Christmas in July
698.	The Bonhoeffer Biography
699.	A visit from an old friend
700.	Comfortable silence
701.	Finishing a book
702.	Laughing with my husband
703.	Hearing about my siblings' successes.
704.	Sharp kitchen knives.
705.	White subway tile.
706.	The scent on his pillow.
707.	A soul-cleansing cry.
708.	Romans.
709.	Tortilla chips.
710.	Tempura California Rolls.
711.	Conference calls with family.
712.	Hope in the heartache.
713.	"Your Glory in my valley."
714.	Difficult providence.
715.	The gift of Grandma Kate's life.
716.	The comfort in being with family.
717.	Reminiscing with cousins.
718.	Grandpa's stories.
719.	Their 60 year long love story.
720.	Kelly Marie's scones.
721.	A sister sleepover.
722.	Coffee with my favorite 2-year-old.
723.	Carpet shopping with my guy.
724.	Nyquil.
725.	Elsie's laugh.
726.	Lunch with an uncle and aunt.
727.	Fresh mozzarella.
728.	Remembering with laughter.
729.	A night of 'just us.'
730.	Wendy's with Kelly.
731.	Lingering conversation with my in-laws. Hours after the food has been cleared away.
732.	The hospitality of good friends.
733.	A long walk and a great conversation.
734.	McMenamin's tots.
735.	Being back with our people.
736.	Yakima Valley peaches.
737.	Yakima Valley peaches: grilled and topped with goat cheese and honey. Amen.
738.	A girls' day with my mom.
739.	Grandma's yellowed music.
740.	Walking "The Hill" with my mom.

Looking back over these last 100 days, it is quite humbling to reflect on the highs, lows, and ever-present faithfulness of our God in the midst of it all. It's been quite the summer.

When the Music Returns

2013-08-28T09:01:00.000-07:00

Four weeks ago, my beautiful grandmother was promoted to Glory. She shed the heavy things of this world and her faith finally became sight. The heavenly chorus gained one heck of an alto; and Earth lost one incredible woman. And, as C.S. Lewis said in the final book of the Chronicles of Narnia, The Last Battle, “The term is over: the holidays have begun. The dream is ended: this is the morning.” And what a sunrise she must be experiencing!

Three weeks ago, I cried as my grandfather, a tall, big, impressive retired Airforce Colonel, bid his last farewell to his life’s longest love as she was lowered into the ground. This big, strong man never looked so small as he knelt beside her casket, laid a rose atop the polished, pale blue wood, and choked through his tears, “Goodbye, my love. Thank you for loving me.”

Two weeks ago – and far sooner than I had thought – I sat on a piano bench for the first time in months.

Everything about the piano reminds me of her. When I walked into the house she shared with my grandfather for over 30 years for the first time since her death, I walked up to her beautiful grand piano and wept. I lightly touched the keys and remembered song after song that she would play for us - once seated upon her lap, then seated by her side as we played duets, then seated by ourselves as she stood behind, beaming with pride. I remembered the times that she would let us play her piano, but only after insisting that we wash our hands. I remembered her taking the effort to turn off all other sounds – radio, tv, etc. – when we played her piano so she could hear every note. And I remembered, whenever we’d hit a wrong note, she’d hum the correct note repeatedly until we found it.

I remembered all of the after-dinner sing-alongs around that piano. I remembered her silly look of aggravation when her aging hands couldn’t find the notes as easily as they used to. I remembered every Christmas gathered around that beautiful instrument as she played and we all sang, “Twas the Night Before Christmas,” and I cried to think of this year’s December 25 without her - and all the other ones to follow. The memories flooded back with the tears as I barely touched those ivories and I wondered how life would ever be the same again and I knew it wouldn’t.

I knew, after seeing her piano sitting empty in their living room, that it would be a very long time before I could play again. She supported our every musical endeavor – attending every recital, buying music books that we would actually enjoy practicing, and even listening to my original compositions laced with teenaged angst – and calling it beautiful. To me, the piano means her. So, when I found myself at my in-laws’ house in the week following her funeral, I walked straight passed the beautiful piano in their office without even blinking. For the first three days of our stay, I walked passed it. Then, on Thursday, I sat at the bench; fifteen minutes later, I rose – not having played a single note. Then, on Friday, August 16 – two weeks after the woman from whom I inherited my alto voice joined the alto section of the Heavenly chorus – I played the piano again.

Through my shaky hands and my tear-blurred vision, I plunked out the hymn, “It Is Well.” There seemed no better song. After all, this had been my anthem since the day I heard about her cancer diagnosis. Verse after verse, I played. After that, “The Entertainer,” a song that will forever remind me of her. Then, hymn after hymn, I realized an hour had passed and that I’d played the piano again. And then I cried all over again.

I cannot sit before those keys without thinking of her, and I hope it is always that way. I figured it would be months before I could play again. But, music was so important to her; and, because of that, music is so very important to me. What better way to honor her than to keep playing, to keep sharing the gift that she so selflessly shared with me (and SO many others). Undoubtedly, my eyes will brim with tears each time I wed fingers to keys and play; but, it does not matter, for she loved music, I love music, and I am speechlessly proud to follow – even though hardly half as good – in her petite (yet very impressive) footsteps.

I miss her more than words can say.

In My Valley

2013-08-07T08:10:00.001-07:00

There have been times in my life when prayer has not come easily. For one reason or another I am occasionally rendered uncharacteristically speechless, whether I cannot put words to the pain or joy in my heart, or I am simply so confused that I do not know where to start. It is in those times that I lean heavily on Scripture. Praying through Psalms or other passages has often been a source of comfort and peace. Other times, I have been incredibly encouraged through the prayers of other saints.

These last few weeks have seemingly stripped my prayers of any content. So many days, struggling to put one foot in front of the other, I fall before the throne of Grace with no words, just tears. My prayers sounded more like, "Please, please, please..." than anything else. I read and reread Romans 8, hoping desperately that the Spirit would intercede and make sense of my senselessness. And then, I came across this prayer (from Valley of Vision) that echoed so deeply in my heart:

"Lord, in the daytime, stars can be seen from the deepest wells, and the deeper the well, the brighter the stars shine. Let me find your light in my darkness, your life in my death, your joy in my sorrow, your grace in my sin, your riches in my poverty, your glory in my valley." -Valley of Vision

This is it. This is my prayer. This is my prayer for me. This is my prayer for my husband. This is my prayer for my family. All of it. May He shine more brightly in my brokenness, may I seek His glory in my valley.

At a Loss

2013-08-03T14:43:00.000-07:00

Grief is a funny thing. (Funny as in strange, odd, or ironic – not comical.) It never seems to look the same and often jumps in at the oddest times, commandeering all attention. It can look like hours of unending tears punctuated by moments of shocked silence. Grief can look like you go about your business day in and day out as if nothing has changed, then break down and cry while folding laundry. Grief can look like losing a record amount of hair in a small amount of time. Grief can look like writing a blog post in the middle of the night that you really don't need to read, but I really needed to write.

My grandma died yesterday.

I can barely type those words. I will write more, I need to write more, but I do not have the right words right now to do justice to the incredible woman that she was. After two weeks in the hospital, she was finally healed – just not on this earth. I am so very grateful to know that she is at peace and no longer in pain, but this whole losing-someone-you-love thing? It is really lousy.

I have often haughtily observed how blessed I have been to have experienced so little loss in my life. As a 25-year-old, I was often alone in my peer group for having all four grandparents still alive. My siblings and I would marvel at our good luck and the blessing that comes with having a wonderful relationship with all of our grandparents – a luxury our parents and most of our friends were not afforded. But this is the hard part. We loved her, we knew her, she knew us, she loved us - she was not some distant grandparent who only visited on holidays and only talked with the adults. She came to basketball games and piano recitals and took us out to lunch every year for our birthday - and now she is gone.

We are leaving Hawai’i two weeks earlier than we planned to get home for the funeral and to be with family. Even though our time here has been wonderful, I had long been looking forward to heading home. Then, today, it hit me. As I folded my tears in with Cole’s dress shirts, in our (likely over the 50lb weight limit) suitcases, I realized that home was the last place I wanted to be.

Don’t get me wrong… for the last two weeks that my grandmother had been in the hospital, I would have given anything to be home – holding her hand, talking to her, and surrounded by family. Yet now, as I crammed the last of our unworn sweatshirts into the carry-on, Spokane was the last place I wanted to be. And I couldn’t figure out why. I knew it was not because I was sad to leave Hawai’i and the beaches and the sun… And I knew that I was longing to get home and hug my mom and family, but I could not pinpoint what it was.

Sometimes, grief looks like cleaning out your shower drain more in the last two days than in the last two months altogether. Sometimes grief looks like crying through the memories so your husband hears the story about how she often forgot the peas in the microwave. And, sometimes, grief looks like sitting on the bathroom floor writing at 1am because your sleepless mind will not stop. My sleepless mind put the pieces together and realized why I was so reluctant to leave. I realized that I just don’t want to know what home is like without her. I have been okay in Hawai’i because it is as though, at times, I can deny the reality that she is gone because she was not supposed to be here, Hawaii, in the first place. I could go to Portland and not feel ripped apart. San Francisco, Sunnyside, Seattle… anywhere other than Spokane. She is supposed to be in Spokane. She is supposed to be standing at the top of the stairs of their split-level waiting for my hug. She is supposed to step out of the car when Grandpa comes over for dinner. She is supposed to ask for an ice cube for her glass of chardonnay. She is supposed to teach my kids the spaghetti song. I want to be with my family, but I know that once we’re all together, I will have to face the reality that she is actually gone.

I know I need to be thankful that I have had twenty-five years of memories with this one astounding lady, and I am. I am so very blessed to be her granddaughter. And I am grateful beyond words to know that she is finally Home and at rest. Selfishly though, I miss her like crazy and I know Spokane will never be the same.

"Brothers and sisters, we do not want you to be uninformed about those who sleep in death, so that you do not grieve like the rest of mankind, who have no hope. For we believe that Jesus died and rose again, and so we believe that God will bring with Jesus those who have fallen asleep in him. According to the Lord’s word, we tell you that we who are still alive, who are left until the coming of the Lord, will certainly not precede those who have fallen asleep. For the Lord himself will come down from heaven, with a loud command, with the voice of the archangel and with the trumpet call of God, and the dead in Christ will rise first. After that, we who are still alive and are left will be caught up together with them in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air. And so we will be with the Lord forever. Therefore encourage one another with these words." - 1 Thess. 4:13-18

Epilogue

2013-07-23T16:58:00.002-07:00

This is a long post, and it is a boring post, and it is all about my job. And, if reading the ruminations of a sentimental fool isn't your jam, stop now. Otherwise, read on.

I keep this blog for a number of reasons. The primary two reasons are to keep family up to date on the super thrilling goings-on of the Boboth family and to keep a running record for ourselves of our lives and God’s faithfulness therein. It’s always interesting reading through old posts and tracing God’s hand in all of it.

I recently realized that the days surrounding our Oregon departure were such a whirlwind that I never had time to jot down what those last few days of work were like. So many sweet memories were made and I would hate to forget any of it.

One week before my last day of work, my coworkers threw the sweetest going away luncheon for me – complete with incredible food, heartfelt memories, toasts, gifts, and a very special dessert. To say I was overwhelmed would be an understatement. I felt so blessed to have been a part of that community for the last three years and began to feel the “bitter” in my imminent bittersweet departure. After three years in the proverbial trenches with these people, I suddenly realized how much I would miss them.

The final week of work was a surreal one. Tying up loose ends, saying last goodbyes, going to a lot of “we’ve-been-meaning-to-do-this” lunch dates… And my last day of work could not have been more perfect. We had one final ‘going-away’ lunch with most of the staff, and –for one reason or another- most of my coworkers left at different times throughout the day, giving me an opportunity to say goodbye to each one individually. At 4pm, one coworker called all those remaining into his office for a special toast. We sat around for an hour laughing, telling stories, and toasting to our next exciting season. As I looked around the room, my breath caught in my throat thinking that I was about to leave this team, this somewhat dysfunctional family, that I had grown to love.

As the day came to a close, I said my last goodbyes, hugged each person extra tight, and retreated to my car and cried – partially because I was going to miss these people, but also recognizing the end of a very significant chapter in my life. It felt like turning in my keys that Friday finished the last sentence in that chapter of my life. You know that feeling when you’re reading a book and you look forward to the satisfaction of its completion; yet, once you have finished the book, you feel a loss somehow, almost a “now what?” feeling? Yeah, that is what it felt like. And, because I am super awesome at not being overly sentimental, I cried.

Three weeks and one transoceanic move later found me employed – again – by the same university. Yes, you read that right. In a stroke of God’s incredible provision and faithfulness (and a little bit of extra work on my boss’ part), I had a job waiting for me in Hawai’i. For the last two months, I have been working at a satellite office playing a tiny role in helping the staff get the office up and running. It has been great. And, in a large way, it has kept some homesickness at bay because I have still been somewhat connected to my former job and some of my coworkers.

Well, all this to say, today I turned in my keys again. If my last key-turning-in was the end of that chapter, this has completed the epilogue. The impact that this institution has had on my life is inestimable. Even with all the stress, late nights, long business trips, and frustration over the last three years, the personal and professional growth and the lifelong friendships have made it more than worth it. I could not be more thankful to the people with whom I’ve been so honored to work for their patience, faith in me, and good humor – I’ve learned so very much from them. But even more, I sit here astounded at and incredibly grateful for God’s outrageous provision for us through this job. From Oregon to Hawai’i, He has provided again and again and then some.

I do not know why I can never seem to remember that - time after time - God is faithful. He is faithful! And, even if things do not turn out as I had hoped, I can be confident that He is always, at all times and in all ways, at work for His glory and my eternal good. I still cannot quite believe that this season has ended - I think I'm in denial, yet so thankful for these three years. I am excited to see what the next seasons and chapters of our lives hold - and I am anxious to document His Grace in it all.

1000 Gifts: 541-640

2013-07-18T11:59:00.000-07:00

**The 28th, 29th, 30th, 31st, and 32nd Installments of 1000 Gifts**

541	Pitted Kalamata Olives
542	Parchment paper
543	Easy company
544	Pizza stone
545	Hard truths, driven home
546	Goat cheese in my scrambled eggs
547	A productive night of work
548	A full weekend
549	Talking about adoption with my man.
550	Scheduling a visit with my parents!
551	Dreaming about baby names (for someday)
552	Dinner with Laura & Dave
553	Tulips on the table
554	Little hints of spring
555	Marshmallow Peeps
556	Lasagna
557	Morning fog in the valley
558	A sunny Thursday!
559	Waking up next to this wonderful man
560	Dinner plans with friends
561	Daylight Savings and an extra hour of sunlight
562	Event planning.
563	Blueprints.
564	Cable's out - more time to actually get things done.
565	Google hangouts
566	Hulu plus
567	Surprise visits from family
568	3 hour Starbucks dates
569	The smell of a newborn, hours old
570	Cole's incredible discipline and focus
571	Fresh pasta
572	Frozen yogurt dates
573	Ladies Night.
574	Kelly Anne Schlect.
575	Friends in ministry
576	Homemade pasta.
577	Lingering conversation.
578	Afternoons off.
579	Inside jokes with Cole.
580	72 degree days in March. (!!!)
581	A weekend getaway to Astoria.
582	A patient husband who stops for good coffee when the hotel coffee is gross.
583	Free movies
584	A beachfront dinner at sunset. You just can't make this stuff up.
585	Conflicts that get resolved quickly.
586	The grace extended by my God and my husband.
587	Weekends.
588	Free moving boxes.
589	Excedrin Migraine
590	Fresh cookies
591	A free Vanilla Latte on a day when I'm dragging
592	Lunch with coworkers
593	A full tank of gas.
594	Going home for the weekend!
595	Instagram. There, I said it.
596	Dinner with good friends.
597	Niece giggles.
598	Hide and Seek with littles.
599	Stain remover.
600	Friendly strangers at the airport.
601	A text from my Daddy.
602	Homemade bread.
603	A visit with my brother.
604	People-watching at the airport.
605	Free stuff, yo.
606	The Bay Bridge lit up at night.
607	A baseball game with Brian.
608	Garlic Fries.
609	An encouraging email.
610	Thoughtful friends.
611	A breakfast with the Beattys.
612	A moving party
613	Good packing tape
614	Our GTBC Church Family - because of God's work through them, we are forever changed.
615	Hard goodbyes.
616	Beth Carper.
617	Colorado relatives
618	Books. Amen.
619	Time with the niece
620	Movies in the middle of the afternoon.
621	Whiffle ball in the backyard.
622	Uncle Andy's margaritas.
623	A phone call with Brian.
624	Generous neighbors.
625	A returned deposit (and a super sweet letter from our old landlords)
626	A completed to-do list.
627	An incompleted to-do list - a reminder that my worth is not in what I accomplish.
628	Watching younger cousins turn into pretty darn awesome adults.
629	Seeing my baby sister graduate college - such grace and such Grace.
630	An unexpected bump to firstclass for a 6 hour flight.
631	And, complimentary POG mimosas. Yes.
632	Being reunited with my guy. Missed him.
633	Dinner overlooking the marina.
634	Strawberries en flambe.
635	Waikiki with my in-laws.
636	A fresh Hawaiian Lei.
637	A patient and gracious attending doc.
638	A picnic at sunset.
639	Access to a barbeque!!
640	Familiar worship songs keeping homesickness at bay.

Island Visitors

2013-07-08T17:04:00.000-07:00

Oh guys. I don’t even know where to start. I’ve obviously not done a great job of keeping this little corner of the internet updated. Sometimes I feel like our day-to-day goings on are not noteworthy or worth writing home about – literally. Work, laundry, dishes, reading on the beach – you know, just your average day-to-day stuff – not super interesting to read (or write!) about. That aside, this past week was more than certainly worth writing home about. And so….

Dear Home, please pardon my cellphone photos - we were having way too much fun to pull out the big guns.

This last week, three of my favorite people visited us. We hiked, ate some incredible food, boogie-boarded, ate more great food, toured Pearl Harbor, talked, ate some awesome food, hiked, talked, wore sweet hats, talked, talked…. It was divine. Truly. My theology may be off here, but I always feel like I taste a bit of heaven when my family is near.

The days flew by in a blur and it was over all too soon. We kayaked up a river and saw turtles. We ate KILLER tacos. We got sunburned. We hiked Diamond Head. We had a sunset picnic at one of our favorite beaches. Mom and Dad wanted to ~~get away from us for a few hours~~ make sure that Kelly and I got some good ‘sister time’ in, so they took Tuesday for a cycling day while Kell and I did Pearl Harbor and lunch (and coffee and scones). This week was totally not food-centric. We loved showing our family the little parts of the island that we've discovered and, quite possibly, fallen in love with.

The Fourth was spent poolside relaxing. Steaks on the grill and pina coladas in hand, we celebrated the beautiful, hard-fought gift of independence and prayed for God’s mercy on our country’s future. From the backyard (of the house we were housesitting), we could see the beach fireworks; and we ended the night with our feet in the hot tub talking about theology, the future, and light matter like that.

It was pretty lousy saying goodbye to them. We had an incredible time learning the beauties of combining mango and cilantro, pairing a great Sokol Blosser with mahi-mahi, and toasting to a wonderful week as the sun set over Waikiki. Guys, seriously, words cannot even begin to explain how great this week was. My family is pretty much the bestest. And I'm still trying to figure out how to convince them to come back.

This is Not My Home

2013-06-14T12:23:00.000-07:00

Living in Hawaii during this temporary season has been quite interesting and quite the adventure. We have loved learning a new place, but we live very differently here than we did back home. When we moved here, we brought very little with us; and, as I do things like grocery shop, I typically buy just what we need for the week so that we will not have extra food items leftover when we leave. In other words, we really don’t stock up on many things because we know our season here is short.

A lot of the time, we stick out like a sore thumb. It is very evident to most people here that we are not ‘local.’ Between our skin color (and its propensity to sunburn) and our inability to pronounce the Hawaiian street names, it’s quite clear that we’re not from around here.

Even after being here for a month, it still does not quite feel like home. Oftentimes, I catch myself thinking about my family “back home,” wondering what the weather is like, thinking about our new nephews, longing for the fellowship of our church family… Our living situation here is great – ideal, in fact; but most days I find myself dreaming about our future house where we will live when we are finally settled, done with this transitory year. I picture it filled with guests for a dinner party; or I imagine what the garden might look like in the late spring. Some days it is difficult to be fully present here while my heart is longing for there.

While I was reading this morning, it occurred to me that this is precisely how I should feel about life on Earth. I should feel like a temporary citizen, like I don’t quite belong. Just because I live in Hawaii right now, does not give me Hawaiian residency. My driver's license still says, "Oregon." I do not walk through the door of our apartment and feel enveloped by that familiar comforting sense of home. It's great, don't get me wrong, but it's not home.

I want to long for our future Glory the way I long to be home now. I know my heart, and my heart is desperately tied to the things of this world. I find great comfort in familiarity and great security in what I can see. I want to gain a more eternal perspective of our time here on Earth. What a blessing to spend this temporary season in such a beautiful place, but what greater Beauty awaits! Hold on, heart, we're not Home yet.

"But our citizenship is in heaven, and from it we await a Savior, the Lord Jesus Christ, who will transform our lowly body to be like his glorious body, by the power that enables him even to subject all things to himself." - Phil. 3:20-21

Wave After Wave

2013-06-07T11:53:00.000-07:00

This morning, we awoke to gray skies and threatening, dark clouds. Today has been a day of slate-wiping, dust-clearing, blustery, totally cleansing rain. And it's only 8am. After days of hot, humid weather, this rainstorm is complete relief. I always drink my coffee hot, but it's nice to actually want it hot on a morning like this. Even in this cleansing rainstorm, this place maintains its own unique sense of beauty. But, enough about today. Yesterday is the real reason we're all here.

Yesterday was pretty incredible. Not because of the weather and not because of the beaches.... but because we had the joy of becoming an aunt and uncle for the second and third time. My incredible sister-in-law gave birth to our two handsome nephews bright and early yesterday morning. Yes, we are loving it here in Hawaii, but I can honestly say, I've never wanted to be back in Washington more than I do right now.

So, after living on my phone watching for updated information and pictures of the boys, I figured it was time to do something productive with my day. (Not that following your nephews' births is not productive, I had just barely left our apartment all day) So, I decided to put together a little picnic for Cole and drive him up to the North Shore after work for a surprise sunset dinner. It was worth the drive.

After we'd finished eating, we just sat there watching the *huge* waves roll in. I really don't know what it is, but waves can be so mesmerizing. There were a few kids playing in the surf a bit down the beach and the waves were so strong that, even if they had wanted to resist, the kids were continually bowled over by the power of the waves. Driving, overwhelming waves.

And, all I could think about was God's grace. Wave upon wave of driving, overwhelming, completely undeserved Grace. Two brand, new, healthy lives back home. Grace. A safe delivery. Grace. Living in this beautiful place. Grace. A great local church. Grace. Nearly 3 years of marriage to this incredible, forgiving, loving man. Grace. The cleansing morning rain. Grace. Bowling me over day after day after day.

5 Things

2013-05-30T15:43:00.000-07:00

The View atop Diamond Head

1. It's incredible how a slight change in climate can affect so many things. My hair, for example, though hard to control in this humidity, has never been happier. And, one thing that I've learned in the two weeks that we've been here thus far is that, given this humidity, food turns stale far more quickly. Tortilla chips were chewy in a matter of hours; and the Oreos went soft overnight. I guess that means we have to eat them faster. Darn.

2. I've learned that if you do not speak any English whatsoever and cannot understand the sign that says, "Cash Only," and all you have is your credit card and the attendant is irritated with you, my husband will step in without a second thought and pay for your entire family's admission.

3. Given the limited time that we are here and the *extremely limited* size of my kitchen, keeping dinner healthy, fresh, and creative has become a challenge. Not wanting to load the shelves of our temporary home with seasonings and spices that will not be used up during our three month stint (and not wanting to take any home or have too much go to waste), we have learned to appreciate the beauty in the simplicity of a little salt, pepper, and garlic.

4. If you ever need motivation to workout, spend a day at the beach.

5. It has been so refreshing to have our evenings back, now that Cole is done with the "schooling" part of school. Perhaps life on the island is getting to me, but it has been so nice to slow down a bit. Easily, the highlight of my day is our nightly dinner that we linger over on our back porch overlooking the harbor. I really like this guy.

The First Week

2013-05-25T20:55:00.000-07:00

And now, for a very non-sequitur update…

Well, we made it. After all the packing and planning and travel logistics, we made it. With three large suitcases, two small bags, and two backpacks, we moved to Pearl City, Hawaii. While we have been extremely busy getting settled, we have most definitely been enjoying our time here. We were even blessed to have Cole’s parents here for the first week to help us get settled.

The view from our back porch

It has been so fun exploring the surrounding areas. Having grown up in the Pacific Northwest, warm ocean water will never get old to me. Every time we swim here, I can’t get over the extraordinarily blue and amazingly warm water. So cool. We have so enjoyed trying some of the local restaurants and soaking up all the aloha spirit (can you say “live music and hula dancing during cocktail hour”??). But, lest you think that our time here has been nothing but paradisiacal, let me give you a snapshot of our week.

***

A few years back, another Optometry student who was here on rotation bought a car; and it has since been passed down to student after subsequent student. We were thrilled to hear of this arrangement and relieved to have an answer to our transportation problem. The arrangement sounded great and we planned to pass it on to the student after us, until on Sunday night, just 4 days after Cole had inherited the car, it went belly-up on him. The downside to the whole car arrangement was that this breakdown was inevitable and we were the fortunate students upon whom it decided to conk out.

I arrived on Monday night and spent the first day here at the mechanic trying to solve the issue while Cole was at work. Long story short, it would have cost more than the car was worth to repair. So, Wednesday was spent with my in-laws looking for cars. By God’s grace, we found a decent replacement and have already beaten a path between Pearl City and Waikiki. Needless to say, dealing with car issues is one of my least favorite things.

***

We are living in a residential area about 15 minutes from the beach. Cole absolutely loves his placement and attending doctor. And our little studio apartment has a washer and dryer. This is all far more than we could have asked or imagined. We are so very thankful for this adventure and for the way that the Lord has showered goodness upon goodness – even in a dead car – on our time here. We are so excited to see what the next three months have in store!

Again, lest you think every day here is sunshine, palm trees, and Mai Tais on the beach, we are currently experiencing our first – and quite blustery! – Hawaiian rainstorm. I may or may not have a sunburn that is thankful for a day out of the sunshine… Don’t let our pictures fool you, it gets cloudy here too!

Until It's Gone

2013-05-14T23:31:00.000-07:00

Well, here we are on the other side. One week ago with the help of some friends, we packed up all of our belongings, scrubbed our little apartment until it shone, and said goodbye to our friends, our family, and our very first home together.

The reality of our move is sinking in very slowly. It still just feels as though we're on an extended vacation visiting family and that we'll return to Forest Grove soon. I keep forgetting that we won't walk through our front door again or that I won't make pizza in that oven next Friday or that someone else will soon occupy my office or that we won't get to see the leaves on the tree across the street change into the fiery red that heralded autumn's arrival. It's amazing what you miss once it's gone.

Throughout this whole moving and transition process, I have to say, we have felt so very blessed. I'll tell you, if you want to feel loved, just quit your job, leave your church, and move across the ocean. Okay, maybe not. But, in the process of doing just that, we have been completely overwhelmed by the love we experienced as we said goodbye. It seems that the old maxim is true; you really don't know (or, perhaps in our case, appreciate) what you have until it's gone.

I was quite surprised to discover how hard it was to say goodbye. I know I shouldn't have been so surprised, but I was. In reflecting on our three years there, Cole and I were both so very overcome with gratitude for the people who have invested in us and loved us and shown such grace towards us. I worked with some incredible people; Cole went to school with some amazing people; and our church family? Well, there just are no words. And, unfortunately, at the time of "goodbye," the words never come. I am never able to say what I want to say. We may not have always appreciated what we had to the fullest until it was gone, but, boy, do we ever see the gift now. We leave changed for the better, by His grace.

And, speaking of leaving, my wonderful man is currently somewhere over the Pacific on his way to Hawaii ahead of me! Looking forward to joining him next week... We'll try to keep you updated and hope to post more pictures!

What's Next?

2013-04-28T20:33:00.000-07:00

Holy Moly. How did we even get here? Three years ago, today seemed a lifetime away. And now, here we are on the doorstep of change, cautiously approaching the threshold not knowing what will be on the other side. We have been asked often about our next steps, our plans, and what the coming year has in store for us. While we don't know a lot of the specifics, here is what we do know:

On May 6-7, we will pack up our moving truck and drive to Central Washington where Cole's family lives. Cole's brother and sister-in-law have graciously offered their garage and home for our storage use. We will stay in Sunnyside for about a week, then head to Spokane. Cole leaves for Hawaii for his first optometry clinical externship on May 14, and I will follow him on the 20th. He will be working at the Hickam-Pearl Air Force Base until mid-August. We'll be living 20 minutes from the base in a delightful, little apartment in Pearl City. And, while I do not know what exactly to expect, it looks as though I'll fill my time hosting our family (yay, visitors!!) and exploring Oahu.

In August, we will move to Spokane, Washington, and move in with my parents! Contrary to what may be typical, I'm super excited! Cole will be working at the VA Hospital in North Spokane. While the days will be long (~12 hours at the office!), we look forward to the three-day weekends and trips to Sunnyside to visit our niece and nephews!

In November, we'll head to Denver, Colorado, to live with Cole's cousins while he works at a nearby private practice. And, in February, we'll be back in Central Washington for Cole's final rotation before graduation. On May 17, 2014, my wonderful, hard-working husband will graduate from Pacific University College of Optometry as Doctor Cole Boboth. I couldn't be more proud or excited.

So, that's what we think we know. That is what the next 12 months appear to hold. That said, we know that God is bigger than our plans, so we'll see what happens! We'll do our best to keep you updated (read, I'll post lots of Hawaiian sunsets). So please stay tuned....

Ch-Ch-Ch-Changes

2013-04-20T19:51:00.001-07:00

Things be a-changin’ around these parts. (in case you haven’t noticed, ha!) It is incredible how empty the apartment feels with everything off the walls and half of our lives in boxes. However, though the physical space we occupy is emptying, our hearts are nothing but full. I can’t tell you how blessed we have been in these last few weeks as we wrap up our time here.

There have been more moments than I care to confess where I have been overwhelmed with emotion: sadness, anticipation, regret, excitement. You name it, I have felt it. I have learned that it’s completely possible to miss people already even though you’re still with them. I have learned that even after two or three years of looking forward to this moment, I’m extremely reluctant to say goodbye. I have learned that I really, really, really hate goodbyes. (and we haven’t even left yet!) I have also learned (okay, I have known this for, like, my WHOLE life) that I’m not the best at dealing with change. And so, I turn to the kitchen.

The beauty of cooking is that, for the most part, it’s reliable, predictable. I know that I can cook up some Italian sausage, chop up an onion, mince garlic, sauté for a bit all together; throw in some tomato stuff and herbs and it always produces the best red sauce you have ever tasted. (recipe/method courtesy of my Iron Chef Mom. If you have ever sat at her table, you are one of the luckiest.) I know that, with some flour and egg in hand, I can press out some thin, light pappardelle. Add some boiling water and a willing audience, and you have a meal. Each time, every time.

Though I can’t control the change around me, I know how to chop an onion. Although, at times, it seems like I will be overcome by the unknown, I know how hot to sauté garlic before it burns. And, when I don't know what to say, there is always the table that beckons those to draw near, eat, be loved.

Ultimately, (and because I set off the smoke alarm more often than I would like to admit) however, I am even more thankful for the unchanging One. The One who, even when life is in upheaval and even when I burn my garlic, buoys my heart and carries us through. We have an adventure-filled, exciting, and extremely unknown year ahead of us. How thankful I am that there is One who goes before us.

Today.

2013-03-25T16:51:00.000-07:00

Thankful. So very thankful.

My phone beeped at me this morning. It was telling me that, in 39 days, we’ll be packing up our life here and opening a new chapter. Thirty-nine days. As that *deadline* grows closer, the time seems to move even more quickly. (like, didn't I just write THIS?) It’s as though I have blinked and our time here is slowly (or not so slowly) nearing an end.

There are so many things that I wish I had done, so many relationships into which I wish I would have invested more time, so many boxes left unchecked. And yet, in this moment, all I feel is thankful. So overwhelmingly thankful. I am thankful for the people and the places and the opportunities and the love.

These people who have embraced us so openly, these people who have loved us so readily, these people who have become friends-that-are-really-family. These places that we've explored, these places that we've discovered, these places that we've claimed as our own. These opportunities that we've been offered, these opportunities that have grown us, these opportunities that have changed us. This all has changed us.

And the love. The love that comes from growing up together in a new place. This place that saw our first married argument. These walls that have seen the tears, both in joy and sorrow. This kitchen that has witnessed our best, tenderest, and, yes, even most raucous dance parties. This little place that has held us as we have experimented our way through hospitality.

So today, yes, I am sad as I anticipate this goodbye. But, more than anything, my heart feels as though it might explode from thankfulness. We have been so richly blessed in our time here; it is overwhelming. I sit at my desk throughout the day and marvel at the gift I have in those with whom I work. I sit in church on Sunday looking around the room at the strangers-turned-family, and my heart overflows. I look at my husband, this incredible man with whom I've been blessed to travel through life, and I cannot help but to thank God for His grace in my life.

Oof, May is coming faster than I can anticipate. My heart has been inflicted with a serious case of denial. Three years is more than long enough to put down roots, love people hard, and settle in. Hold on, heart, this ain't gonna be easy.

PS - hopefully, on the other side of this, this blog will hold happier, less dramatic musings. Just bear with my overly-dramaticism in the meantime. Love, love, love.