Ten Years Later: Happily Ever After, Then and Now

FORWARD:

Ten years ago today we entered into wedded bliss. 

The only regret I still have from our wedding was how the pictures turned out; though there were lots of great ones, the resolution of the digital files we received was so low it rendered most of them fuzzy, pixel-y, and unprintable. 

This week, we received our professional photos (<---thank you from my heart for these memories, Milana!!!) from the birthday shoot I scheduled in our wedding garb. I was beyond excited. I love beautiful pictures, and have always reveled in authentic beauty that points to the Divine.

This time, the photos were fantastic and usable, and I couldn’t wait to share them far and wide. {Wedding day on the left; 10 years later on the right}.

We re-created this picture during our recent trip to West Point for our
10-year reunion; it's our favorite bridge over the reservoir.

One of the main catalysts behind these 10-year anniversary pictures was a spontaneous picture I'd taken with the kids on our 5-year anniversary after unpacking my dress from our move. After I saw the picture, it reminded me of one the wedding photographer had taken and made a great side-by-side. Thus the idea was born to do another at ten years. We'll see how committed I am to the tradition at 15 years, and then 20-ha.

At the same time, my brother, who recently lost his home in Santa Rosa, also sent me another treasure trove: a digital storage link full of pictures from the week leading up to our wedding and our wedding day itself—many that I’d forgotten about and some I had never even seen.

It led me down memory lane, and in reminiscing I realized that I had never recorded the events since I started this blog a few years after we were married. What better time than to capture said memories in writing (and simultaneously resurrect ye old blog)?
So here are the events, as I remember them, of that wonderful week leading up to November 3rd, 2007.

HAPPILY EVER AFTER: THEN AND NOW

10 years (and 1 week) ago, I was traveling back from South Carolina after graduating from initial officer training in my Human Resources specialty branch. I made a pit stop at my parents’ in Pennsylvania to squeeze in one last dress fitting & a bridal shower, pack up my stuff, and drop it all off at the rental home my loving fiancé had found for us in Fort Drum, NY. Following the stop at our first home, I circled back down to our Alma Mater of West Point, NY for those long-awaited wedding bells. 

Some homecoming squeals with my mom and then-baby (now gorgeously grown-up)
sis--the cutest and best junior bridesmaid on the planet!

Decompressing after the shower...in
my crinoline?I have no recollection of this, ha!

That stop at Fort Drum, NY, was filled with some special firsts: I stepped foot into our first house and saw the surprise wedding gift my soon-to-be-husband has procured--our first piano, a gorgeous, well-loved upright that continues to sing its happy, slightly off-key songs today (and is still a beast to move!). But most special and overwhelming was my first meeting with our playful first pup—even though I’d been keeping tabs with pictures since Peter had adopted him a few months prior, opening the door to his greeting was still quite the shock. Just like everyone else who has ever met him, I was ill-prepared that first time for the incomprehensible enormity of my fluffy son, because no pictures could accurately convey his true size. 

But that night, as I tossed and turned with sleeplessness in our new First Bed with weird pillows, my exhausted mother-of-the-bride soundly asleep beside me and my husband-to-be slumbering in the spare room, I slid out of bed to journey to the kitchen and on the way met the enormous, ever-vigilant Samson on his nighttime patrol. So I hunkered down with him in the hallway and stroked his massive head and silky ears and we bonded; his big soulful eyes looking wisely up at me, ears perking up at threatening sounds known only to him and relaxing again, always with one watchful eye on me. That will forever be my favorite first in our first home. 

Miss you, pup.

Meandering back south to West Point the next day, we began the whirlwind of last minute preparations, hair test runs, program stuffing, rehearsal dinner-ing, and all the small little details that seemed colossal at the time but really didn’t matter in the end and I have since forgotten. One of the last things I remember as we approached midnight the night before the wedding was begging to go to sleep despite the numerous things that needed to be finished. Some things never change! 

At our reception venue, taking care of something hugely important (like linen colors or something equally enthralling). 

Rehearsal dinner

Our grandmothers at the rehearsal dinner.
They were instant besties. I love this picture. 

The morning of the wedding I rushed off to my hair appointment, eating a bagel with cream cheese and downing tea with honey and lemon since a small cold had randomly turned into my first (and only since) case of laryngitis. I had no voice to say my vows! I spent the rest of the morning trying not to talk too much and communicating in a low whisper.

There somewhere...under all that hair.

There was one joyous happy dance after another as several bridesmaids and my maid of honor—who had been told they weren’t allowed to leave restrictive army training and attend the wedding—miraculously arrived, having moved heaven and earth (with a little help from heaven, to be sure) to be present for our day.

Our priest and spiritual Father from our cadet days, Father Paul, stopped by to see Peter and then me, for one last spiritual cleansing in the Sacrament of Reconciliation before we entered into the greatest Sacramental vocation of our lives.

Peter and his brother.

And what a Sacramental celebration it was. The wedding itself was full of uncontainable joy and the tiny imperfections—windy cold weather, my voice that had come back in time for vows but was deep and throaty, and the little snafoos in the details—that make it both perfectly real and spark the realization of what truly matters on a day filled with such anticipation: God, Man, Wife, and the loving community that supports them. 

To this day, I have never had so much FUN at a wedding. I laugh to think of the plan I tried to hatch with Peter to slip out of the reception at least 15 minutes early, sure that we would be exhausted and ready to escape. But between catching up with all the beloved friends and family who had traveled far and wide, between the hilarious development of Peter’s friend who begrudgingly caught the garter and his grandmother who had caught my bouquet, between the dance-off to Thriller between a groomsman and a Colonel, we couldn’t tear ourselves away from the spirit of sheer joy and celebration. The reception hall staff essentially kicked us out of the reception hall a half an hour after the party was scheduled to end.

Grandma's got jumps!

The garter awkwardness slash hilarity.

Other regret: this is the only picture I have alone with my
wedding-planner-mother-of-the-bride-in-one, as she was hard at
work fixing mybustle that had come undone!

I procured Peter's nametag as a nod to the new
nametag I'd soon be wearing on my uniform; at our
professional pictures ten years later, he remembered
this and whipped out a nametag for me to wear again. :)

The next morning as we rushed to mass, then the airport for our flight to the surprise honeymoon destination Peter had planned (Costa Rica!) we ran out of time to stop for breakfast, so we treated ourselves to what I still consider the best breakfast of all time: leftover raspberry-crème wedding cake. I swoon just thinking about it.

Zip lining in Costa Rica

- - -

Ten years later, things look a little different. Life is nothing like I imagined and exactly what I hoped for. Today we are living that nebulous picture of the happily married couple with kids, plus all the details my mind ten years ago never would’ve been able to fill out.

We are still in the army, but settled in once place--a paradox to the me of ten years ago. There was a time when I imagined us as an active duty military family, moving every few years for the rest of our life. There was a later time when, burned out by the pace of active duty army life, I absolutely knew that once we had finally escaped our Army contracts we would leave the Army behind, put down roots, and sever all military ties. But here we are, happily settled continuing the hybrid of military service called the Reserves, which suits us perfectly right now.

We are still living our dream of a [not as] big [as I once imagined] happy family, but with children who are nothing like the limited one-dimensional figures I’d dreamt up, and everything to us in our daily reality. Their beautiful faces combined with their jaw-dropping little brains, talents, interests, and individual quirks help me realize how much I still lack, but also how much Peter and I have grown in love and straightup parenting smarts.

And this week leading up to our anniversary was comically unlike that of our wedding week. We still ran ourselves into the ground with late nights and early mornings—but the parallels stop there. We made dinner reservations for our anniversary, which ten years later is a much more agonizing process than it used to be. We squeezed in hockey and choir practice, appointments and late-night mass, homework and projects, all the while doing damage control from trick-or-treating sugar highs.

By Wednesday we decided to cancel our anniversary dinner in favor of a road trip to chilly Wyoming to honor Peter’s grandfather, whose funeral was the day prior.

The five of us piled into the car along with Peter’s brother and our niece, and spent the eve of our ten full years and anniversary itself with family--celebrating life, coming together in death, and trying to entertain kids on one daggone long drive. (And now as I sit writing this, the rest of our relaxing evening was just ambushed by a sick kid).

But I wouldn’t have it any other way. (I mean, of course I'd take a pass on the sickness part, but you get the gist).

This life is never devoid of suffering, but in the same light it is never devoid of joy.

I’ve come to realize that although I love seeing the spotlight rest on so many of these beautiful, inspiring, share-with-the-world-worthy moments of our union (see: incredible professional pictures), it’s really the private, unseen moments that I cherish most in the depth of my heart.

It’s the quiet things my love does that most of the world will never see--helping kids with math when my brain's about to explode, warming up my side of the bed with his body heat on a cold night so I don’t freeze, stopping two extra times during a road trip through the Wyoming “wilderness” to find a fork so I could eat a can of tuna—because traveling with a restrictive diet is hard. Just to name a few out of the 1,035,792,914 I can recall off the top of my head. 

It’s in these little moments of our vows that receiving love means the most, and also in these that I am learning to grow the most in my call to love. It’s about loving and honoring in good times and in bad—as in, the times where it would be easier to choose annoyance, sloth, or selfishness. Loving in sickness and in health means choosing love when there are fewer healthy days than ever, when part of the reason I still fit into this dress is because my body has turned against me and I am wasting away, and when loving and caring for me through a chronic illness {that makes me both unpredictable and limited} is just as hard on him as it is for me to love beyond myself through days and moments of pain.

We are a team. And it isn’t in the big flashy moments, but in the small daily sacrifices of loving beyond our own selves, the mutual commitment of being there for each other in the moments that matter most, that builds the immovable foundation of this heavenly sacrament.

I daresay Peter is leaps and bounds ahead of me in the selflessness part of our relationship. But his self-giving love both makes me better and makes me want to do better.

During our wedding ceremony, one of the readings we chose included Matthew 7:24-25. It reads:

24 “Everyone then who hears these words of mine and does them will be like a wise man who built his house on the rock. 25 And the rain fell, and the floods came, and the winds blew and beat on that house, but it did not fall, because it had been founded on the rock. 

Many know that the name Peter literally means “rock,” which was especially meaningful when we chose those verses. But in the ten years that have surpassed, all the fluffy sentiments and niceties of this scripture passage have been tried in the furnace of real life, and we have emerged far stronger for it. I count myself both lucky and wise that to have built my house on such a firm, loving, selfless rock. And that has never been truer than today. 

I love you heart and soul, dear Peter - my sure and steady rock. Cheers to ten years, and God willing we will have much more wisdom to share as we celebrate the next forty or so!

The Easter Crawl

Part I
Jumpin' Jehosephat, man. THIS LENT.

[Insert string of bug-eye emojis].

[Also prefacing this with the fact that my Lent has been total cake compared to many of my friends. Something big and beautiful must be on the horizon, because peeps getting flattened, yo. Pray for them with me!].

It's been a wild ride the past few weeks, and I feel like I'm crawling toward Easter and the promise of some Resurrection joy with all the strength I can muster. Some of the high(low?)lights:

1. For about 48 horrific hours last week we thought we would have to say goodbye to our Samson pup. Despite the "he's just a dog" reality talk with which I've tried to brace myself, it was absolutely terrible. He has pretty bad arthritis already in his hips/hind legs, and at some point (probably running across the yard to bark at a passerby) he injured himself so badly he couldn't put any weight on his back legs. This does not bode well for a 150 lb. giant who we simply cannot pick up, even as a team. Thankfully it was a Sunday so Peter was home, and we sat with him in the backyard in shifts, bringing him water and food. Peter just may have spiked his water dish with Lourdes water too in faith and desperation. Eventually we were able to help him hobble a few feet so we could get him inside for the night, but after that he was done. He hadn't been to the bathroom in hours, so Peter ran out for puppy pads to place under him, but faithful obedient Samson held it with all his might, even though we tried to tell him it was okay and he wouldn't be in trouble.

I kept checking on him and prayed my heart out for hours that night since I couldn't sleep (I was also having one of my flareups which was not helpful). When Peter got up in the morning, Old Man Samson had somehow moved from one room to another and we felt a surge of hope. We got him to the vet--it took five of us to lift him on and off a stretcher (that didn't lower!) and he got x-rays which didn't reveal much...save some possible tearing of his doggie "ACL" which may or may not have been the cause of his issues. We had the gut-wrenching

talk with the vet about having to euthanize in the next few days if he didn't heal quickly or fully enough to walk or get out and do his business. It was so awful, especially since he is still completely healthy otherwise; old, yes, but surprisingly healthy.

Pampering and keeping vigil with our pup.

We left the vet armed with some painkillers but not much else; after all the poking and prodding, he was back to not being able to stand. It was a long few days trying not to ugly cry...at home, at the vet, trying to explain a probable goodbye to the kids as they loved on him and prayed rosaries and lit candles for him. We repeated the Lourdes water "treatment" too, even as we prepared for the worst. And miracle of miracles, the next morning, our pup was up and standing again, walking slowly, and able to go outside on his own. He has quickly improved from there and--incredibly--is basically back to his old self.

We're better prepared for the inevitable now; we know another such incident could do Samson in, so we're trying to make sure he remembers he's not a puppy anymore. But aside from sleeping a little more and getting his daily geriatric doggie anti-inflammatory and glucosamine, he is still fit as a fiddle. We got some non-slip socks that help him on our wood floors, Peter built a ramp over the deck steps to the yard, and for now we're just gratefully cherishing the wonderful time we still have with our fluffy old man.

2. At the same time time this was happening, the poor boys spiked fevers and were souped up on fever reducer as we ran around trying to help our Samsonator.

3. Oh and also at the same time, there was lots of restructuring and uncertainty at Peter's work. The stress was pretty much through the roof for awhile. 

Oh the relief when that whole week was over. 

4. For those not yet weary of my health saga updates: I'm excitedly counting down the days until my next procedure in the long line of endometriosis treatment attempts [endoscopy/colonoscopy. My NaPro also gave me some low-dose naltrexone to try after the procedure]. So much lost sleep and so many reactions and flare-ups in the past month I've lost count. I'm looking more like skin and bones and feeling like a zombie/hormonal ball of yuck. Every day is an unpredictable...adventure. Yeah, let's say adventure. That's such a pleasant-sounding word. But I finally kicked my progesterone treatment to the curb because it wasn't doing squat except making me even more exhausted, and I feel slightly less brain-fogged and like there's maybe even a slight improvement in my good days overall. At any rate, I'm somewhat naively praying the upcoming scope reveals something [but not necessarily anything--please God, nothing scary, and something that is easily treatable and will go away stat]. I'm hesitant to get my hopes up too high after years of being burned, but I also know that hope keeps me going right now so I have to hang my hat on something. So hope for the last week of April it is. 

5. But wait, there's more. This Lent has been chock full of a slew of other happenings I won't really go into--the kind that all sound annoying but manageable on their own (like appliances breaking in triplicate), but when combined with all of the above basically amounted to a bunch of "sobbb make it stoppppp" moments on the hour. At least I had lots to offer for all of my loved ones!

Part II
LIFE IS STILL GOOD

But now for the good, because there are always little moments of consolation to be had in the trenches, and so many beautiful moments as we emerge from some tough patch or another:

1. My Lenten social media fast has been both eye-opening and enriching. Someday I'll have the time and energy to articulate it better, but in the mean time, this Digital Detox piece I wrote for the Blessed is She blog contains much of what I learned about myself in terms of social media, and ways I found to help curb compulsive digital use in order to use my devices to add more value to my life versus taking away. In short, though my time away hasn't been a magical panacea for all of my dowfalls, it's helped me create better habits and be more intentionally present to the people who matter most. I have confidence that I'll be able to return to social media with more self-discipline, more purposeful usage, and healthier interaction when the time comes.

2. I'm stoked about my book list so far this year. Books, as always, are my favorite consolation. It's been a good mix of new titles and oldies but goodies. My latest reviews are here. I've gotten through a bunch more since then which I'm also psyched to share soon...you know, in the next month or three.

3. Random delights: 

• The new double exposure feature on one of my favorite editing apps is pretty cool (maybe slightly creepy too). I'm having fun playing with it: 

Peach buds and sunsets

More spring buds and cocktails

Pano mountain views and sunset clouds in pink. 

• These cookies from my local grocery store are my new jam. They're also mucho dinero. But when almost all food is your enemy, any baked goods that you can eat, and that taste decent, and that almost resemble a girl scout cookie are truly a glorious gold mine. These cookies--free of all major allergens--are still a staple in my cabinet, too. 

• Speaking of groceries and stores, I am a new woman since my regular store began online ordering and pickup (even same day - ready four hours after you order it!). You're literally not supposed to get out of your car for liability reasons, so you just sit and relax while they open your trunk and load your groceries. The woman who runs it (we're now on a first name basis) also told me the first time that they're actually not allowed to take tips, and that she would see me next week. I didn't even have a kid in the car to make me look less lazy! Thus any and all guilt I was harboring vanished. So essentially I've become a regular never-enter-the-store-unless-I'm-forced-to shopper. It's a beautiful thing.

4. Building the village. The soul work continues through the ups and downs. Some of the best graces from my social media fast were my renewed effort to better foster in-person relationships instead of defaulting to connecting over a screen. I'm especially thankful lately for the moms/Blessed is She women's group I lead, as well as a couples small group--the men and women each meet once a month, and I've gotten to know some really incredible women. I'm so grateful for online connections, but nothing can replace the in-person village that we all need, and it's been largely missing in my married life up to now. Some of it has come about by chance, but I'm also learning how important it is to put in the hard (and sometimes way out of my comfort zone) work. Namely, taking advantage of events and opportunities that are all around me to find/create the community I long for, instead of making excuses or expecting it to just land in my lap. The effort is absolutely worth it--I'm being fed in such awesome ways by this building up of my local community and support network and I'm really looking forward to seeing where it's headed.

Weekly(ish) tea date with my lovely friend
and soon-to-be-almost neighbor!

5. This quote from Aristotle has been in my brain this week ever since my Spiritual Director mentioned it:

"Virtue is the mean between two extremes." Or, "virtue is a mean between two vices, one of excess and one of deficiency."

Technically it's a much deeper and more extensive philosophy called the Golden Mean, but the above sums up the concept perfectly. I'm sure all the truth bombs and light bulb moments that are already hitting me will result in plenty of future blog post fodder.

---

Alright, I think that's enough peaks and valleys for now, yes? I hope your Lent was (is) manageable and growth-inducing in some form or another, and that Easter meets you with joy and beauty anew!

Retreat, CathSo Style

A few years ago, I became part of an incredible Facebook group of women from around the country (and now a few select international gals). We are ladies from all sorts of backgrounds who are trying to stay grounded in our faith while working our way through life. It started mostly as bloggers and people who do the Twitter thing (I still can't seem to jump on that bandwagon) looking to continue friendships and support each other in a more suitable space. And so a Facebook "sorority" group of sorts was born; "Cathsorority," or CathSo for short, has been going strong ever since.

I've been fortunate enough to meet and become great friends with a few of the girls in Colorado, going to weddings and baby showers and baptisms together, but for the most part, a good portion of the friends who have known me best for the past 3-4 years I still haven't met in person. 

We've had plenty of discussions about beaming ourselves to a big after-bedtime cocktail bar in the sky to hang out in person, and we've joked often about starting a commune, especially since at this point we could fill every community role necessary with all of our different degrees and strengths and talents. But alas, all the wishful thinking has been just that--wishful--since most of the occasional meet-ups have been limited to a few people in the same geographic area. 

Last year, though, one of our local Colorado sisters came up with the idea to make a girls' getaway happen for real: we would rent a cabin in the mountains, we would hang out together in person, we would have some (semi-) crazy fun, and focus on faith and sisterhood over glasses of wine and s'mores. 

Over the course of the year it evolved form a little idea into reality, and this past weekend we made it happen: a retreat, CathSo/Sisterhood Style!

Out of our lovely group of women, roughly half were from our original online group and the rest were more wonderful local ladies who we met throughout the course of the year. (To fit in comfortably with the life-filled theme, we had four infants accompanying their mamas, four pregnant women, and at least four Marquette monitors out of the bunch!) We began Friday night with pizza, a talk, and a little mixer to get the party started, with prizes based on best-dressed and most creative. The theme: Purple Mountain Majesties...because it's impossible to ignore the majestic beauty of the Rocky Mountains while on retreat in Estes Park, and also because there can never be enough purple in the world. [Unless it's paired with green on a big dinosaur].

Since purple has long been my go-to color, I was not lacking in options when shopping my closet, but sadly my Rocky Mountain Princess tiara (with real mountains!!!) was beat out by a Baby Gap pouff and the most hideously amazing lavendar 80s dress ever designed [how did I not get a picture of that one, Andrea?!]. 

Saturday was a very full but great (and surprisingly peaceful) day. Our first stop was St. Malo, the beautiful chapel John Paul II had visited during his time in Denver. Sadly, most of the grounds were destroyed in a devastating wildfire a few years ago, but they are working on rebuilding, and the chapel on the rock still stands. While we were there, one lovely lady gave a wonderful talk on sisterhood with the chapel and the mountains as the backdrop:

No filters here #becauseColorado

Then came a pleasant hike in the Lily Lake area, followed by time in downtown Estes Park taking in the sights, shopping, and enjoying lunch.

Some of the original CathSo gals.

Let me just tea nerd out on you for a moment to tell you, the little tea cafe called Moon Kats Tea Shoppe where my group ended up eating had some crazy awesome culinary creations that totally knocked it out of the park. I'm talking Earl Grey tea bread with lemon curd and clotted cream, Tea Cider (yes, tea steeped in apple cider) and the freakishly delightful sippable masterpiece I ordered called Orange Spiced Tabby--aka cinnamon tea steeped in frothy orange juice. You better believe that my tea game will be stepping it up a few notches in the future. If you ever find yourself in Estes Park, do yourself a favor and just wander on by sometime in the afternoon. Trust me.

Anywho, reeling myself back in...

Back at the cabin, some crockpot deliciousness was waiting for us, along with the wonderful priest who drove all the way out just so we could have mass in the comfort of our little lodge. He also offered reconciliation and adoration which was a real treat since most of us mamas with bebes have found that for some strange reason it's slightly difficult to fit those things into our schedules in the real world. That was easily the most restorative part of the weekend for me...a whole evening of guiltless peace and silence just to be fully, wholly present in the moment.

On the subject of being in the present, we chose the saint Jane Frances de Chantal as our designated patroness/role model/inspiration for the weekend. She was someone all of us ladies--from single to married to working to homeschooling--could relate to in different ways because she lived through it all. She was was a wife, a mother of four, a young widow, and a businesswoman (managing her husband's estate and then her in-laws' estate in a day and age where women weren't supposed to touch those things). She was always helping her community and grieved the loss of two of her babies and many family members before becoming a nun later in life. She focused on charitable work and influenced some pretty incredible decisions with local authorities to care for the sick and contribute all her convent's resources when a plague hit her region of the world. And she did it all with grace. At one point she said, "...we must live in the present moment, without forecast and without worry about ourselves, concerning either the future or the present." We adopted this wisdom as our motto for the weekend:

The whole weekend was the perfect balance of time for reflection and connection (at least for me, a self-proclaimed ambivert). It was so nice to connect with other ladies who had many of the same goals and who were struggling with a lot of the same conflicts, and who appreciated the same kind serious and snark that I do. We talked well into the night about all sorts of things, from the lightest of subjects to the deepest of thoughts [no Jack Handy required]. And I definitey lost a little sleep giggling and whispering animatedly with my roomates because it was way too easy to revert back to our 6th grade sleepover selves.

30 going on 13.

The matchmaking here starts young...

It struck me at some point that this was the first retreat I've gone on for myself since I've been in college/become a mom; it's been so long since I've taken that time away from the ceaseless to-do list so I could spend valuable time revisiting all the inner corners of my heart and soul. It challenged me to reach beyond my comfort level in some ways, re-examine some priorities, and get back in touch with the way I want to approach life. I enjoyed it all thoroughy. And it changed me deeply. So deeply that I came back and baked stuff. From scratch. For my family. (I know right? I should go on retreat like every day).

Garden fresh strawberry-rhubarb cobbler.
And I almost enjoyed making it. Who am I?

I'm so glad we [mostly my dear friend] figured out how to make it happen and put in all the hard work to pull it off. I'm so glad that I'm returning with deeper relationships with wonderful people who (as one friend put it) are actually real people behind that screen, not a bunch of creepers.

And I'm so glad I'll get to continue hanging out in person with so many of you. Thank you all for a lovely, spirit-filled getaway!

Planning team, minus one lovely mama who is busy snuggling her 2-week-old--as she should!