Four Months Already?

It's not technically any sort of anniversary of our wedding today.

We were married on June 12, 2010.

It just happens to be today that I find it hard to believe that it's already been more than four months since Trey and I tied the knot.

This weekend my mom asked me, as she looked for the first time at our framed wedding pictures hung around our apartment, "Jess, looking back now, what would you have changed about the wedding if you could do it over?"

First of all, Mom, I replied, I won't be doing it over. Too much pre-wedding stress, anxiety, and planning craziness...plus, I happen to like the guy I ended up with as my "husby."

But truly, even if I reeeeallly think about it, I wouldn't change a thing. Not even the fact that our limo was too small--it led to great wedding party bonding. Or even that we didn't know we were supposed to provide our own champagne for the post-ceremony ride to the reception--we wouldn't have had the great impromptu photo shoot at The Little Wine Shoppe in Saint Anthony Village.

I'm happy to say, I couldn't have been a happier bride. And my mom agreed, noting the "Cheshire cat grin" I wore all day and into the night.

I'll close this post with my favorite (well, one of) wedding day memory: The Bagel Shop Good Samaritan Incident...

We had just gotten our hair done at Salon George, and my bridesmaids, mothers, and I were loading up on carbs at Brueggers Bagel Bakery before heading to the ceremony site. I was adorned in my wedding day getting-ready outfit which, since leaving the salon, was topped off by my homemade veil. Apparently my look screamed "bride"...and maybe even "frugal bride."

As I chomped my bagel sandwich, someone tapped me on the shoulder. I turned to find a gentleman standing behind me. The man smiled and said, "Unfortunately I won't be able to make it to your dollar dance tonight, but I want you to have this..." And he pressed something into my hand. I looked down to find a hundred dollar bill. "Shut up!" I shouted at him as I slugged him on the arm in a Elaine-from-Seinfeld-esque move. And before I could properly thank him, he disappeared. I turned to my posse and showed them the bill. They were as amazed as I was. "Who was he?" my mom asked. "No idea," I replied. My mom went on to exclaim how rude I had been and how confused that man must have been that I said "shut up" instead of "thank you." Maybe it did confuse him. But I feel justified each time I tell this story and the listener responds by slugging me and exclaiming, "Shut up!"

The Parents are Coming, The Parents Are Coming!

...shouted Paul Revere in my apartment this morning. Figuratively of course.

It is true. My parents are coming. In just six short hours, give or take flight delays, we will pick them up from the Denver International Airport.

The first parental visit to our new place. An occassion such as this calls for me to set aside all sassiness and dig deep into the reservoirs of domestic diligence. So this morning a full force assault was launched against dirt, dust, and other such griminess that has accumulated in our first three months of life in our new apartment.

Four loads of laundry, countless squirts of Windex, one boxed caked mix, and four hours later, our home is officially ready for the arrival of our special guests. If only the scent of baking chocolate would linger for a few more hours.

In the midst of the challenge of establishing ourselves in a place miles from most of our loved ones, the passing presence of a guest provides warmth, familiarity. While hospitality may not be one of my most strongly presenting spiritual gifts, I am discovering the thrill of making a guest bed and anticipating someone's arrival. Especially when, for the first time in my independent life, the apartment I inhabit feels like a home.

We can't wait to show off our places of work, the wedding gifts we've found ways to use, our knowledge of the Denver area, the beauty of the mountains, the warmer weather than North Dakota, and the way we've been able to create a life here for ourselves.

As we entertain and feed, laugh and converse, I hope the warmth of company will settle in to the cracks in our walls and absorb into the carpet. So that as we spend weeks on our own, Trey and I might be reminded of the circle of love that enfolds us, even when friends and family are far away.

Any Given Sunday

At Bethany, every Sunday brings something new. You have to be on your toes to keep up! Last Sunday, October 3, I had the chance to play the role of "Pastor" in some unusual ways. It was a Sunday full of unexpected worship venues, and extra-ordinary worship participants.

The Holy Day began on the light rail to downtown Denver. I was headed to participate in the Komen Race for the Cure. Our congregation was represented by around 70 walkers! The total gathered that morning numbered over 50,000. I had the honor of praying a blessing over our Bethany team before we hit the starting line for the 5K walk. And, although I managed to lose most of the group over the course of the walk, I was overwhelmed by the power of God working through community, solidarity, and the human spirit to survive, thrive, and celebrate in the face of great pain, loss, and struggle. I was proud to be Pastor among a congregation who believed their steps can bring hope and effect change. What a beautiful act of worship, under the tabernacle of an autumn morning sky.

Next, I hurried to catch the 10:30 worship service in the setting of our more traditional sanctuary. I was surely the only congregation member dressed in hot pink running shorts and a pink sequined headband that morning...or maybe in the history of worship at Bethany.

The morning of unusual ministry ended with a worship service for those who usually aren't allowed in sanctuaries---our four-legged, two-finned, animal friends. The Blessing of the Animals is a fall ritual at Bethany, and our courtyard became a holy place for those who feel a special connection to a friend with fur or scales...and their furry, scale-y friends as well! Hymns of praise mingled with barks of joy, and the peace was passed in a most unusual way among those canine worshipers who greeted each other with inquisitive sniffs.

We sang, we prayed, we listened to a message from "St. Francis of Assisi." Then humans and animals lined up together to receive a blessing--for health, life, friendship, and good things to chase.

I made friends with a particularly loveable goldendoodle named Tucker. I wondered as I posed for a photo if the pastoral alb I was wearing had ever had such an exciting outing from its home in the sacristy closet.