1915

Listen my son, for to you I confer

Our history, our past and beseech you

Remember

For the crimson stain of our brothers

Splattered across our homeland walls

Remember

For the smell of burnt flesh and embers

Where our sisters once danced aflamed

Remember

For the sound of the desert zephyrs

That buried our children’s weary corpses

Remember

So to you my son, these words I transfer

Lest we forget the Hand that saved us

Remember

Click here for a summary of the Armenian Genocide. April 24th is the day that we remember the atrocities committed against thousands of Christian families (my own great grandfather being one of them), and the light of faithfulness that still shined through all that horror.

I Didn’t Say “I Do”

Like most young girls, I thought about my future wedding now and then-what my groom would look like, the dress, the lights, the flowers-all the small things that set such a day apart from all others. But more than all of that, I wondered what it would feel like to say “I do”.

Fast forward several years to a rainy August evening where I did stand before God and witnesses, and spoke holy vows to the tall man in front of me. 

I will have and hold.

I will honor and obey.

I will take you as my husband, and forsake all others.

I will hold to only you.

I will.

I will?? What happened to “I do”? Forgive me for asking, but doesn’t “I do” seem a little more classic? More romantic? More…..wedding-like?

Ah, naive little bride was I.

Eight years later, I am only just now beginning to understand where the “I do” comes into play. Why I wasn’t meant to say it on my wedding day, amidst the pomp and circumstance, the feasting and the ebb and flow of the waltzes.

Because I have said “I do” every single day since. 

I spoke “I will” publicly in silk and satin, but I have whispered “I do” privately to the rising sun, blazing in glory. I have shouted it surrounded by the reek of diapers and burnt bread. I have cried it to the darkness in cold sheets and bruised emotions. And I have laughed it to the wind, as the trees shed their flaming coats.

On happy days, frustrating days, days when everything and everyone is messy, days full of romantic excitement, and days weighed down by the mundane- it may not always be spoken aloud, but it’s there.

I do.

I do have and hold you.

I do strive to honor and obey.

I do take you to be mine and forsake all others.

I do choose you.

I choose you.

Every day, every morning, every evening-the vows are silently spoken yet again. Renewed over and over and over, until the door to the next life is opened to one of us.

I choose you.

I do.

Hearth and Home

hearth
noun
  1. the floor of a fireplace
  2. used as a symbol of one’s home

There are few things more satisfying than snuggling into deep cushions, sipping an enticingly hot cup of tea, surrounded by glorious stillness and calm-all the while gazing into the mesmerizing flames of a well stoked fire…..

Oh, wait.

I don’t have a fireplace.

My husband has strictly forbidden me from “playing” with fire indoors (notice there was no mention of outdoor restriction….)

And glorious stillness has become a rare and treasured occurrence when three tiny humans invade most moments.

13346783_10154182524745987_2604426505010714341_n

All the above may be true, yet I am still drawn to the idea of a fireplace hearth. Once upon a time, it was the hub of a house-a place of nourishment, warmth, and dreams. Its essence was the center, the very heart of every home.

This provoked a new thought. I may not possess the physical presence of a fireplace in our current rental abode, but what would I say holds our essence, our heart-what would be the hearth of our home? Continue reading “Hearth and Home”