Writing as Mrs. Conley

Deprived of time, energy, money, and sleep, Adam and I spent an entire summer piecing together our dream wedding. And a dream it was. Unfortunately, as it would be, I’ve however neglected a passionate piece of me that I’ve missed since June 10^th – recording the stories that shape my modest corner of the world.

Last I wrote, Adam was selected to the Florida (soon-to-be-Miami) Marlins. And what a blessing! As I sit upon a deflating blow up mattress, resting in the air-conditioned refuge of my Florida home, I can do nothing but smile back on the summer that changed the course of my life forever.

Immediately following the news of Adam’s job placement, we quickly selected our wedding date – 9.10.11 – a most perfect day. From then on, it would be a whirlwind of errands, trips, selections, opinions, tears, laughs, struggles, emails, receipts, phone calls, and late nights that brought us to our special day.  In that time, we also celebrated our one-year anniversary, served as Bible study leaders at FUGE camp, saw my best friend get hitched (yay Katie!), moved Adam’s mother into her new home, signed a professional baseball contract, raced the Dirty Dash, took Adam to the airport, skyped from 4,000 miles away for 3 weeks, received my first concussion, had both my bridal shower and bachelorette party, developed a dirty curveball, worked daily with my personal trainer, established unbreakable relationships, rekindled others, saw some fade, and through it all, felt God’s hand guiding my every step. It was a summer I’ll never forget and one that I’ll cherish all of my days.

The weeks leading up to our wedding were some of the craziest I can remember. Hours spent clicking through the wedding pages of Stumbleupon.com created an expectation that drove my efforts. I wanted that day to be one that was, through and through, a perfect depiction of the relationship Adam and I had built by the love of our God. Not ironically whatsoever, we spent on a very tight budget, and therefore were able to create just that – a wedding that would capture the Conleys perfectly in their passions. Collectively, with the help of many, we put together a ceremony that reached far beyond anything I could have ever dreamed of.

That day sped past us both like a bullet. I remember butterflies, anxiousness, hope, peace, and comfort as the day unfolded. I spent much of my last hours as a Mays girl laughing and running around Olympia with my best friends. While we skipped from place to place, tying loose ends and beautifying our exteriors, many others were hard at work piecing together the rest of the details – thank you.

4 o’clock rolled around in a flash. Pictures. It was finally time for me to meet eyes with my groom. It seems though, that with me, something always comes up last minute that bothers  my punctuality. So it was 4:10 when I finally got to see him. He was waiting at the bottom of a beautiful scene, and I hurriedly walked toward him in a rush of excitement. I’d never been so eager to stand before him. Our first look is one that continually sends tiny little love sparks through my being. I placed my had upon his shoulder and as he turned, I was struck with the most joy I had ever experienced. A handsome, brilliant, passionate man of God would soon become my husband. Naturally, a smile burst from my elation and he laughed. “Honey!” he said. “You look beautiful, but…I think you have lipstick all over your teeth!” We immediately shared a heartfelt laugh that was so Adam and Kendall. Just two kids. Passionately in love. Beginning our lives with a genuine laugh. I think my wedding day may have been the only day I’ve ever worn or will wear lipstick again. But I couldn’t be more happy about it. As he wiped the sticky mess from my crooked front teeth, I could feel his overwhelming sense of love reach out and wrap me faithfully in his arms. With him, I’m forever safe. Safe to be the goofy woman of God that I’ve been called to be.  

Before I knew it, 7:00 was upon us. A summer of preparation had come to fruition. At last! Our gathered community of friends and family had arrived safely in support of our vows before God. And I was ready. I was ready to stand in front of my God, Adam, and the people who mean most to me, and promise my life to a man whose most important relationship is not one that involves me. The Lord first. Me second. Just how it should be.

As I walked down the staircase, down the gravel hill, down the aisle, I was enthralled in love. Absorbed in the beauty of the moment. Captivated by the image. My watery eyes met his. And as I stood before my groom, I was thankful. That I had found him. But more than that, that I had found the most unique, important, and perfect relationship only 2 years before. Before I even knew who Adam Conley was. Before I even cared to know him. I have a love for this man because of another who pours it through me second by second, day by day. A perfect puzzle was pieced together that day, through the inspired sermon of our dear friend Josh. The words that flowed from him were met with open ears, and hopefully some open hearts as well. I couldn’t have asked for a better message, ceremony, and gift of sunny Olympia weather.

Our Vows. Our Rings. Our Covenant. Our Communion. Together, with Our Love and His, we’ve begun Our Lives as The Conleys. And we couldn’t have hoped for a more unique way to venture off. As with any new journey, the possibilities are many. My hope is this: that one day, I’ll be able to look back on these memories and realize growth. In myself. In my relationships. In my service. In my God.

Because of this, I’ve embarked on an exciting task: to capture the first 365 days of our marriage in photographs. So far, I’ve got 15 days worth…and it just keeps getting better!

You can follow us daily at http://a-life-in-flight-365.blogspot.com/ 

And finally, I’d just like to say thank you. Before the letters go out. Before the notes get personal. Before my hand cramps like it used to during Microbiology lectures. Thank you for everyone whose had a hand in Adam’s life. And in mine. We feel so blessed. So fortunate to have been surrounded by beautiful people throughout our days, even before the two of us laid eyes on each other. Adam and I each have encountered separate lives up until the past year and a half, and without many of you – some I may never meet – our stories wouldn’t be the same. So thank you for your dedication to both of us, however big or small. Something brought you here, and as you read, I hope you understand that even the slightest smile, the weakest encouragement, the faintest provision, is worth enough for me to be thankful for. 

God Loves Marlins

Sometimes I wonder just how much God chuckles at us. Just how many times He looks to us and says, “If you’d only trust Me! I have it under control!” And as He watches us panic frantically through the uncertainties of life, He provides us with unique opportunities that remind us of just how powerful, perfect, and gracious He really is. Tuesday was one of those days. And looking back through the intensity of these past few months, it’s obvious to us that God was paving the way the entire time. How silly of me to have had any worries.

Around 9:12 Tuesday morning, Adam was selected in the 2^nd round as the 72^nd pick of the 2011 MLB First Year Players Draft by the Florida Marlins. And what a blessing. The clarity brought on that day was surreal. I’ll start with some God Facts:

1. The Marlins grace the field in the perfectly selected colors of teal, silver, white, and black. Those are our wedding colors. Chosen months ago.

2. Gabe Sandy is the Northwest Area Scout for the Marlins. He was Donnie Marbut’s (WSU’s head coach) roommate and best friend in college.

3. Gabe Sandy was also the only scout that held a conversation with me this season. He and I got the chance to talk as I filmed Adam pitching on Scout Day at WSU on February 4^th. After the intersquad game, Adam and I decided to go out for our 7 month anniversary, this time to Wingers. When we walked into the restaurant, Gabe and the Marbut family had apparently found their appetite for wings too, and were enjoying dinner together already.

Bailey Brayton that day

4. On Monday, Adam invited friends over to watch the first round of the MLB draft, hoping that he might get picked up later in the supplemental round. He was wearing a teal v-neck that my mom got him for his birthday.

5. Prior to his selection, Adam and I had talked often of the potential opportunity for us to go somewhere “far away” in order to become fully conscious of our “own two (well four actually) feet.” We wanted a chance to become officially acquainted with Independence. Miami, FL, where the Marlins call home, is 3,089 miles from Pullman – the furthest possible MLB park from our alma mater.

With news of his selection, relief outweighed the initial excitement. Relief that had been anticipated for years in Adam’s experience, and months in mine. Relief that comes with the knowledge of knowing. Knowing something. Anything. On Monday, as the first round came to a close and his name remained unselected, the significant emotion that presided our reality was the frustration of not knowing. Of having a goal, a dream, a life that’s forced on pause for an unknown amount of time. Like a little kid that sits eagerly before the television, control in hand, ready to defeat the final boss in Mario. As he dodges the bullets with swift tenacity, armed with the life ending blow to the evil turtle’s existence, the child’s mother calls him for dinner. In that moment, apprehension sets in. He’s forced to wait. To pause time. To sit in wonder. “How long would dinner last?”

That night was a bit difficult, but the next morning brought clarity. Finally, some clarity. It was a beautiful memory, and the grin that shaped his face makes me smile every time I play back the video. It was 9 AM when the second round of the draft began. Tuesday. June 9^th. 2011. The day his dream came true. I can’t speak for Adam, but I can speak on behalf of every American child who’s ever had a dream. A really, really, big dream. The kind of dream that remains only a dream. One that won’t ever become a reality. Tuesday, the dream that was once scoffed at by many, actually became Adam’s reality. As the three of us sat staring intently at a computer screen, awaiting the recognition of familiar words, “Adam Conley” was announced almost unnoticed. It was the Florida Marlins’ selection, and Adam hadn’t given them much consideration. Sure, he knew Gabe and talked with him a few times, but he didn’t feel as though the Marlins had their radar set on him. And I’m so thankful for his unawareness. When they announced his name, Larry, Adam, and I looked at each other with equal shock and disbelief. “Wait, what? You’re…Adam…That’s…YOU! You’re a Marlin!!!!!” He grabbed his dad and hugged him real hard. The sight of a father and a son, two best friends, each elated beyond words, was a special moment. It was the perfect beginning to the end of their work together. And I was happy to be there filming the memory.

The relief was instant. A load lifted. It was getting a little too heavy anyways. Immediately, Adam’s phone came to life. As he answered each call and responded to each text, the relief became a whirlwind of excitement. It was a busy day. A fun day. A peaceful day. But the day would have remained incomplete without the dawning of a fresh New Era. So, we went to Just Sports and bought ourselves two perfectly teal Marlins hats. I think I’m hooked. (Hahaha). That hat looks mighty fine on my little-round-7 ¼-Marlin head. It looks even better on his. And although there’s many obstacles still blocking the road to Florida, the potential is right in front of us. And even that is such a blessing.

If things go smoothly, and the business-end of the process moves swiftly and without kink, Adam and I could be well on our way across the country. To unknown territory. With so much more to learn. With so much more to love. With so much more to give. And we’re excited about the potential in that. We’re excited for broadened perspective, new challenges, diverse knowledge, and unfamiliar community. I guess warm summer weather wouldn’t hurt either!

In all of this, we feel especially blessed and fortunate that Adam’s talents and gifts are taking us to foreign experiences. We’ve had a year packed with an array of choices, tests, growth, and setbacks, but all the while, we’ve maintained our craving to learn more about this life and how to use what we’ve been given. Leading up to these recent changes, Adam and I have enjoyed the animation of a unique reality that the end of college offers: Engagement, PAC-10 Championships, Graduation, 21^st birthdays, Senior Pictures, Engagement Pictures, Pre-Marital counseling, Last Games, Best Friends, New Friends, and Bike Rides. It’s been quite a year. And on Tuesday, we were afforded the taste of what could possibly come next. For that, we’re grateful, relieved, satisfied, motivated, and completely excited for a fresh start.

As for logistics, which many have inquired about, Adam and I have decided through much consideration, that the two of us, God willing, will walk off the plane together. Into whatever town, city, or state that he’s selected. We’ll find appropriate housing and enjoy the cultural change as a couple. While he’s out chasin’ the dream, I’m excited to find a new calling. I’d like to test my luck in flight school as a recreational pilot connoisseur. Something about flying through space is captivating to me. I’ve been in flight my entire life…why stop now? Maybe I’ll take up personal training. Maybe photography. Regardless, the two of us are just really excited for change. For new experience. For something different.

It seems, looking back, that our story was written before we ever got a chance to read it. Our Perfect Story. In all of this, I remain fascinated by God’s hand, his blessings, and his sense of humor. And for all the worry and frustration that has plagued me over the past few months, with apprehension of where and what was next, I can only shake my head. Because: He’s in control. Not me.

One more thing. God loves Blue Jays, Red Sox, Orioles, Rockies, and Astros too! Congratulations to Cougar baseball players Cody, Taylor, Derek, Matt, and Paris for your hard work and selection to unique and exciting decisions and experiences that lay ahead. It's been a joy watching you all these past couple of years, and you'll be dearly missed. Good luck boys. Make the Cougs proud(er)!

Wasted on His 21st

It’s amazing what a year can do to you.

In a year, I met a boy.

In a year, I kissed a boy.

In a year, I dated a boy.

In a year, I loved a boy.

In a year, that boy found God.

In a year, that boy loved God.

In a year, that boy became a man.

In a year, I respected that man.

In a year, I saw change in that man.

In a year, I loved that man.

In a year, I said yes to that man.

I remember his 20^th birthday fairly well. At that time, I wasn’t keeping as keen of an eye on our memories as I do now, because quite honestly, I didn’t know if our friendship was built to last. Thankfully I was wrong. And because I’m a nerd, my memory of those days remains vivid and clear…

After a semester’s worth of financial aid funding, my bank account was running dry. Sprinting dry might give you a better image. I was broke. Really broke. But justified spending a bit of what I did have on a guy who was beginning to become special to me. I exercised frugal creativity, spending probably 15 bucks. It hurt, but I love birthdays, and apparently I loved the guy too, so I kept my worries buried.  He had practice that day, so I had time to bake a funfetti cake, complete with that “ball” frosting and a “Happy 20^th Birthday Messy” message scribbled somewhat legibly across. I sat at my MacBook and shuffled through country songs, selecting specific lyrics to put onto his CD. There were 19 of them. I ejected his disc and covered it with permanent marker memories. Words that would remind his blurred conscious of our time together. It turned out perfect. He was never the same. When he came over for his presents, I gave him the cake, the CD, the card, and the MGD beer. Yes, I did. My judgment was lacking. But I didn’t choose MGD without reason.  At the time, Adam’s best friend was his longnecks, and I had acquired the given nickname of “MDG,” so I made a joke out of it. I rearranged the letters on the beer box from MGD to MDG, and called it good. He laughed. So did I. It was then that I began my “mission” of stealing beer’s spotlight in his life. And now, a year later, I can say that Beer is still his best friend…Beer being the nickname that comes when you’re in a rush to class and jumble together the words “babe” and “dear.”

Now that he’s 21, Adam is legal in the eyes of the law. Finally. Ironically, he’s not much of a drinker anymore. I guess that’s what Pullman, a girl, and a conviction will do to you. And he has little to complain about. He enjoys his Beer every day. And lives his life love wasted.

And because it’s his birthday, and yet again, I find myself scraping my bank account for extra cash, I thought it might be appropriate to remind him just how much I love him on this epic day.

So, Adam, formerly known as “Messy,” here’s a few reasons explaining just exactly what I love so much about you:

Of most importance, you love God. A lot.

You’re gentleman-ness opens every door for me. Including car doors.

You sleep in your own apartment, in your own bed. Every night.

You wake me up each morning by gently tickling my back, squirming me awake.

You pour the newly opened milk jug milk before me so I don’t spill.

You suck it up and watch The Biggest Loser. 

You reformed for me the perfect glove.

You taught me how to throw sliders and heaters.

You correct my improper lifting techniques in the weight room.

You know how much I love and need chapstick, and buy it when necessary.

You know how much I love when you wear chapstick.

You know “the look.”

You love “the look.”

You bought my ring in San Francisco.

You didn’t kiss me on our first date.

You didn’t kiss me on our second. Or third.

You make me coffee in the morning. Perfectly tan colored. Sometimes with cocoa.

You love country music.

You sing me love songs. Lots and lots of them. (Hopefully someday on the guitar!)

You pray with me every day

You let me stand on your feet. Just because I like to.

You hand over your debit card so that I can buy groceries.

You call me every night before you go to bed, even if I just saw you.

You keep me updated on all the latest MLB facts.

Your favorite movie is Avatar. And dressed up as one for Halloween.

You like to dress up. Ok, you LOVE to dress up.

You stopped chewing. Thank you, sweetheart. You have no idea how much it means.

You made me a baseball book…complete with “How-to Chatter” and pitch locations.

You bought Jackson’s baby shoes for me to hang in my rearview mirror.

You let me snap as many pictures of you as I want. Usually without complaint.

You pull me onto your lap when we need to talk. Or when you need a good hug.

You let me win. Sometimes.

You hold my hand our special way because your hands are too big.

You walk with your arm wrapped around me.

You hold my waist when we sing at church.

You take me to Village, where we learn more about the sermon given on Sunday.

You let me ride shotgun.

You buy me ice cream when I NEED it.

You eat the ice cream too, just so I don’t feel bad about it.

You rub my Planter-fasciitis foot because it hurts so bad.

You remind me that I’m beautiful. Every day.

You wear matching Vans.

You trust me with your style. As you should!

You always put the toilet seat down. Now that’s a good man!

You wash the dishes after I slave over your LAAAAA-GE meals.

You make fun of me after I’ve been drugged, asking me what Jello flavor I am.

You reason with me logically. Redundant? Yes. Necessary? Yes.

You are always honest with me. Even when it hurts my feelings.

You look through wedding magazines because you know it makes me happy.

You’re Sharpie-prepared when we need to leave our handprints at specific locations.

You let me Q-tip your ears, even if you just did it. 

You brush your teeth every night. And every morning. PTL!

You take me to pre-marital counseling.

You take me there to learn the things we don’t know we don’t know. Read it again.

You love the way I look in the kitchen. And my food too.

You want to find new ways of eating healthy for us and the (eventual) kids.

You appreciate, care, and love my whole family of CRAZY PEOPLE!!

You want to give. You love to give.

You are naming our black lab “Heater” and agreed on “Whitacre” as the second pup.

You aren’t willing to treat me normal. Because normal isn’t special.

You call me out when I’m wrong. And that’s a lot.

You distract me from my homework. Because in life, there’s more to be learned.

You take my advice when it comes to directions since you’re not directionally savvy.

You let me push back the white stuff on the base of your fingernails. And hate it.

You give me legitimate nicknames, like “Nerd, Spots, Monster, Mama, MDG, BEER.”

You think The Office is one of the best shows on TV.

You make fun of me when I try to shoot a ping pong ball while brushing my teeth.

You thank me, every time, for bringing you snacks to the field.

You ask, a billion times over, before you get a tattoo.

You take pictures of Melon Sobe and BBM them to me.

You laugh at my stupid attempts at jokes.

You keep me updated on ridiculous Youtube videos.

You bought a Blackberry, just so you could BBM me..Ok, that’s an exaggeration...

You aren’t afraid to buy me “girl stuff” at the store.

You tell me weekly that I’m stuck with you. Well, I’m happily stuck then.

You put my socks and sweats on for me in the morning because I’m always cold.

You let me bite your hand. Just because I like to. I know, I’m a creep.

You accept the fact that I am a creep..

You want a family cell phone plan. And are willing to forgo class to research them.

You have agreed to 60/40. Because “It’s only fair!”

You allow me to ruin your clothes when I cry on them all night.

You want a miniature polar bear. Just like me. Because they’re legit.

You think that living on a farm after baseball is the life to live. I agree.

You want a home to use for God’s Kingdom.

You are ok with Mama being the stay at home teacher, if necessary.

You trust me with the remote control.

You know I’m a nerd, and are therefore ok with me being right sometimes.

You always make sure I’m happy and smiling.

You wait for everyone to have their meal before eating.

You thank the Lord before each of those meals.

You don’t use profanity. And I am so very thankful for that.

You leave baseball, when it goes poorly, on the field.

You never complain. Please, continue to show me your ways?

You teach me optimism, reason, and strength.

You wait patiently as I get ready.

You bought me a hardcover and a typing pad for my Mac because I’m clumsy.

You are the first to speak if there’s an awkward silence.

You are honest enough to admit when you’re wrong.

You taught me how to swing a bat. Well, actually, we’re still in the process.

You want to learn how to pole vault.

You made me a bet. And we’re going to find out who wins soon?!!

You force me to take extra protein shakes from the weight room!

You tickle me.

You actively pursue God.

You keep your hands and body parts to yourself.

You love little kids. And can’t wait to be a daddy.

You buy me cough medicine when I’m suffering in Olympia.

You quote, daily, lines from movies. Like Happy Gilmore. And Austin Powers.

You have really big hands. And Jackson better get them.

You let the music do the talking, when necessary.

You are ornery and sarcastic. Witty and funny.

You Redbox with me once a week.

You tied a string around my finger, just like the movies.

You always drive, unless it’s practice time and I have to drop you off.

You called my parents before you proposed.

You proposed.

You have a unique story and aren’t afraid of it anymore.

You’re ridiculously handsome. So, so handsome.

But most of all, you love me back.

 Happy Birthday, Adam. I hope you’re just as wasted on your 21^st as I am.

The Dress

Little girls have vibrant imaginations. They especially come alive in fields of green, under the shade of puzzle-pieced clouds, the bright sun darkening the freckles on her nose. As the small fingers grab the cool grass, breaking the blades from their roots in an effort to be placed in a pile beside her, she dreams. She dreams big dreams. The kind that are alive. Filled with hope, faith, and the occasional “I wonder how much grass I should pluck before creating the next pile?” Her thoughts are scattered, but her dreams, they’re not. Her dreams are loyal. Constant. Forever.

You see, everyone has dreams, but not everyone believes in them.

As a girl, I believed in fairy tales. Not the kind that include flying fairies and pumpkin-shaped horses, no. Even at a young age, I was more realistic than that. These weren’t my fairy tales. I didn’t live in La-La-Land. Or Narnia. Instead, I lived in Spokane, and dreamed about my Fairy Tale.

And as the days go by, I can sense my Fairy Tale coming true.

I don’t know why, but there’s certainly something familiar among little girls and wedding dreams. Big important dreams. The kind that take decades to reach fruition. First step: The Dress. And I can’t say I was any different. Surely I’ve spent hours dreaming about it. And how I would feel when I found it. Well, let’s just say I’ve been pleasantly surprised.

I enjoyed the sweet voice of Colbie Caillat as I made my way up to Spokane on a rainy Saturday in my best friend’s car. 10 days after he proposed. And still thriving in the moment of my greatest memory. The drive from my new home to my old home is a ride painted with rolling wheat hills, quaint towns, and one rest stop. And I love it. It’s peaceful and stunning. The shape the hills assume force me to consider all of life’s intricacies. God is so creative, and after a week of insanity, the drive set me up for a weekend I’ll never forget. One that I’m forever grateful for.

I met my mom at 9 am, one hour later than I promised to arrive. As of late, I’ve come to the striking realization that my punctuality is a grave flaw of mine. And I’m ashamed of it. Good news: I’ll have the rest of my life to work on it. Continuing: My mom is one of my closest and most loyal friends. There is no other person that I would have rather spent that particular day with. Maybe it comes with the assumptions of the Fairy Tale. I don’t think so. Her and I have shared moments in life that are unexplainable to an outside reality. Feelings that I’ve never shared with another woman. And I’m glad for that. There’s a special bond formed when a child falls so hard that only a mother’s love can scrape them from the cold, lifeless concrete, and nurse them back to life. If there’s one person who’s seen me through the darkest of times, it’s been Mom. My beautiful, incredible, selfless friend. The one who always articulates the words that I could never create on my own. She’s a person who sees hope in darkness. Love in hatred. Joy in sorrow. Life in death. And every time, I’d choose her to stand next to me as I begin my journey into the life of a wife, mother, and friend.

We left the house at 10. So many errands, so little time. First stop: Apple Store. It would be just my luck that I own the only year-old Macbook whose internal hard drive made the most adorable decision to crash on me. The irony drips as I further explain that the sole reason I first purchased my Mac was intentionally to avoid this specific problem. I’m convinced that technology hates me. With a passion. This was never an imagined part of my Fairy Tale, but it would weasel its way in just to spite me. Gosh. But as I sat at the Fix-it Center (Or whatever it’s called at Apple), teary eyed and ever-so desperate, my mom stood beside me lightly tickling my back the way that only moms know how. It’s such a calming feeling. Soothing. Just what I needed. They took my Mac, one week out of warranty, to the back of the room, did their Macbook magic, and presented me with my newly installed hard drive. For free. Thank the Lord! In the meantime, my mom and I walked through the stores of downtown, chatting about love and life, and all the exciting things that marriage brings. She taught me how to register for my wedding, even though I’m firmly set against it. She even got the lady at Williams Sonoma to lecture me on what the purpose of a registry is in the first place. Gosh, that’s so Mom. But I guess I’ll be registering somewhere now. She’s just so persuasive! Next, we scurried off to Nordstrom’s. And as I sit here writing, I’m reminded of those 20 minutes. They make me smile. You see, Adam and I have spent some of our relationship in the movies. The Count of Monte Cristo to be exact. Remembering back almost a  year ago: I was sitting on the futon, sandwiched between Adam and his mom, taking in a July summer night, watching this amazing love story unfold before me. While we watched, I crafted Adam a necklace. Made of hemp cord. As I formed his jewelry, he took a piece of the string, and as Mercedes ties a small string around her finger, promising Edmund that she’ll never remove it, Adam tied a piece on mine.

My very first string

For 9 months, I’ve worn this string on my left ring finger. There have been 4 different replacements, as each have worn, but I’ve never gone without one. Until he proposed. Now, it’s found a home on my right ring finger. It has certainly seen better days, and what was once white is now a dingy gray. So, I talked to Adam about possibly buying a real, sparkly ring as a camouflage to my Monte Cristo finger. He agreed. So, as I was waiting at the MAC counter in Nordstrom, surrounded by transformed beauties and painted faces, my mom left me for the jewelry department. Now what? I wondered. After handing over my plastic cash in exchange for a compact of powder, I set out to find what Mother was up to. I couldn’t have mentioned my camouflage-ring ambition to her more than once, and there she was, picking one out for me. And it’s perfectly perfect. Exactly the camouflage I was looking for. Now, when I glance at my hands, I think of the two people who’ve had the most influence on my life: Mom and Adam. And it’s soothing to know that they’re with me wherever I go.

The day continued with a quick drive from Downtown to the Salon on 6^th, where Mommy and I were scheduled to have our heads massaged and hair pampered. My Fairy Tale moment was only four hours ahead, and the butterflies were approaching. We spent our precious minutes together in smiles and grins. Both engaged. Both in love. Both looking forward.

My mom has played a monumental role in the woman I am today. In 23 ½ years, I’ve learned how to love, how to give, how to receive and live. How to sing, how to fall, how to stand up and then crawl. How to shop, how to hug, how to grieve and eat bugs. How to speak, how to praise, how to dance all of my days. How to play, how to swim, how to flip in the gym. How to read, how to cook, how to beautify my look. How to cry, how to care, how to know He’ll be there. A mother of five, a friend of more, she’s taught me in life, the things to explore. Gosh, I love her.

Our journey through Saturday, the 16^th, met us in the lobby of Marcella’s Bridal. The location where part of The Fairy Tale would come alive. Become real. Become mine. I certainly had expectations. Ali warned that I’d cry. Elilie warned that I’d be overwhelmed. And Say Yes to the Dress warned that I’d create a family feud. For some reason, none of these held their weight. I didn’t cry. I wasn’t overwhelmed. And my family still hasn’t made the game show. Not weird. I tried on five dresses. Count ‘em. 1-2-3-4-MINE! It was a surreal moment. One that I’ll never forget. And one that I’ll ponder forever. There’s a simple explanation. For this occasion, I thought it best that all three of my sisters, my mother, and my grandmother were there for moral support. Just in case I decided to have a Kendall moment. Additionally present was a 6-month old, a friend, and a consultant. Eight in total. Sixteen eyes. All looking at me. Pressure. The dynamics of this group were, well, I guess the best word would be hormonal. Emotional. Controlling. Argumentative. Irrational. Assertive. Aggressive. Sneaky. Yes Sneaky. That would be Mother. Oh, ever so sly. She sat in front of me, nestled neatly in an overstuffed green couch, a camera hidden at her side, snapping pictures while I tried on gowns. If the consultant had seen this, it’s not far fetched to think that she might have kicked us out of her shop. Luckily, I wasted no time in finding the dress that I’ll marry my sweetheart in. I had walked to and from the dressing room four times before my fifth, and with each dress, someone, at least one, had something negative to say about it. Mentioning an “unflattering shape” for one, an “odd abruptness of dress” in another, a “lack of booty” in the third, and a “weird transition of bodice” in the fourth. In any other shopping circumstance, I might have begun to become a bit perturbed, but I was having too much fun with the girls for worry to bother me. I was, however, losing most hope of finding “the one” that day. Then, out of the back, the consultant brought what she called a “one-of-a-kind dress.” A dress that nobody else owned. Or wore. What I saw would be exactly what I got. They couldn’t order a different version or color because it didn’t exist. I was skeptical, but thought that a unique dress would be fitting for a unique girl. I shimmied into the gown, impressed immediately with its comfortable fit. The length was perfect for my 5’8 ½” frame. The pattern beautiful on my glowing skin. I liked immediately what I saw, and beamed at the potential of what I would look like standing in front of Adam wearing it. With a few stitches, it would fit perfectly. I remember walking out to my girls, realizing only gasps and “awwws.” There was an unfamiliar agreement in the midst of my several double-takes of the oversized mirror. I looked perfectly perfect. And they all agreed. In unison. Eighteen eyes and nine minds came to the same conclusion. I was wearing my dress. The Dress. My Fairy Tale Wedding gown. The one I’ll stand before God and Adam in, as I promise my life to the man who stole my heart.

I didn’t realize this part of my dream would be so…simple. I had envisioned tears, ceaseless shopping, and champagne. Yet, none of these were my reality. And I’m thankful for that. Because I’ve finally begun to realize that although I believe wholeheartedly in my childhood dreams and Fairy Tales, my Reality is so much better than anything I could conjure up in a grassy field under the magical shapes of the ever-changing clouds. My Real Life Fairy Tale is in the making, and with each passing day, it only gets better.

The makings of this Fairy Tale have been written delicately by The One who gave me this life. I can't wait to see what else He has to ink into my days. PTL :)

350 Days Later

A year of Firsts

 May 2010

First Picture

 June 2010

First Date

 July 2010

First Hike

 August 2010

First Trip to Pullman

 September 2010

First Concert

 October 2010

First Halloween

 November 2010

First Thanksgiving

 December 2010

First Apple Cup

 January 2011

First New Year

 February 2011

First Valentine's

 March 2011

First Radio Show

April 2011

350 Days Later

The History

Nine months ago, three months after meeting Adam, my best-friend asked if I’d be his girl-friend. We were swinging on a hammock, watching the stars, talking about life. It was July 4^th, 2010. A day of slip-n-slide, water-logged phones, golf swings, fireworks, and spinning innertubes completed the memory. We were already in love. We already knew. Only nine months ago.

It’s funny what happens when you realize that you’ve found “The One.” So cliché, yes. SO CLICHÉ. But SO TRUE. “You just know,” is what everyone explained to me, but before Adam, I didn’t get it. I couldn’t understand it. Now I do. And I’ll be as cliché about it as I want to be.

It all started at Rock Talk. April 19, 2010. A bunch of baseball boys crammed into one apartment. I smelled trouble! And I found him too. Adam was a bit different back then. He was, what I considered, Messy. A funny, witty, intellectual guy, but a guy nonetheless. And he wasn’t what I was “looking for.”  I had a list. The List. And Adam wasn’t on it. Soon enough, I’d realize that the endless list of qualities I was searching for wasn’t what God had intended for me. And I’m thankful He made me throw it away.

Adam eventually found his salvation in God. He was becoming a man. And my interest was sparked. I enjoyed Adam as a friend at first. The kind of friend that refuses to leave you alone. He was the guy that could always make me laugh, could always battle wits with me, could always find a way to interrupt my studying. He lived life on a whim. Baseball was his root. His passion. His definition. Now God is.

The First Date

Our first date was in secret. I was still unsure, but he was determined, so I gave in. He made it clear to me from the beginning that he was skilled in persistence. He’s no liar. His persistence dressed me up in a black shirt, skinny jeans, and high heels. He wore a black collared shirt, dark blue Levis, and black Vans. And he was SO handsome. So handsome, in fact, that on our way to dinner in Moscow, I stopped on the side of the highway. I needed a picture. We were on Airport Road and the rolling hills of the Palouse were a sparking green. A perfect backdrop for a perfectly handsome man. I asked him to get out, which he complained about, as his 6-foot-4-inch body squirmed out of the tiny Jetta. I grabbed my camera, easily hopped out of Hans, and there we were, standing in the middle of the highway as I America-Next-Top-Modeled him. Then I took a couple of us.

We made our way to dinner, I, in slight fear that someone might see us. Smoky Mountain’s teriyaki fettuccini and chicken alfredo treated us quite well. So good, actually, that every time since, we’ve ordered the exact same thing. Our waiter snapped another picture of us – of course. We talked Adam-and-Kendall talk. The kind defined by flirty butterflies and clammy palms. We were in love. We just didn’t know it yet.

I wanted to spend more time with him. He was captivating. Everything he said was so…Adam. He struggled back into Hans, my Jetta, and we started driving. The road led us to Bailey-Brayton. Adam’s favorite place to spit, chatter, and pitch in Pullman. I love His love. And I love his love for baseball. He showed me into The Barn and for the first time, I was able to understand the daily experience his life offers. And why he loves it so much.

*DISCLAIMER: My apologies to the WSU baseball team for illegally entering your facility, hitting a few balls, and falling in love. Next time, I’ll consider using better judgment. But probably not.*

I didn’t want to see the night end. He didn’t either. But that was The Plan. And I obeyed. He gave me a hug. No kiss. No way. I wasn’t ready for that. He knew it. And just as any gentleman should, he said goodnight without persistence. I guess Adam was just persistent at the right times, with the right motives. And I’m thankful for that.

The Ring

So Adam and I have a LITTLE obsession with San Francisco. Ok, that’s a lie. The first time I saw the city, I fell in love. Come to find out, Adam felt the same way. We talk, maybe a bit too often, about our “Future Life” in SF. And about how much we’d like to make a difference there. Also, I think he’d look good in Orange and Black.

A few weekends ago, Adam had a series at Cal. Cal just-so-happens to be about a 15 minute bus ride from San Francisco. So, he went. Alone. And I felt guilty. I just wanted to be there with him. For our first time. Exploring our city. Together. Well, a few weeks later, on April 4th, I found out that he had other plans. Adam plans. He explained that he had only wanted to see AT&T Park and that whatever he saw, he’d send pictures. So, he sent me pictures. I was secretly jealous. Ok, that’s a lie too. It wasn’t a secret! After a while, the pictures subsided. I was sad. An hour went by, and I grew concerned. Maybe he got beat up and mugged? Where were all the pictures? Is he ok? Oh, Adam was fine. Just fine. He had a goal. And a secret. But it wasn’t for me to know. Only for him and his dad. As he walked the streets of San Francisco, he had a helper. His dad sat at his desk, searching diligently on Google, a thousand miles away, directing Adam through the streets of our city, on a mission to find a Jeweler.

After a few strange run-ins, he found my ring at a Kay Jewelers in San Francisco that day. So Adam.  

The Phone Call

Adam was blessed with an elastic left arm, a fiery wit, and a gentleman’s consideration. He called my dad. “Mr. Mays?” he asked. I don’t know where this formality came from, but I sure like it! “I just wanted to let you know that if I ever make it to the major leagues, God willing, I’ll get you season tickets as long as you’d like.”

My dad smiled. He LOVES baseball. Infatuation might actually be more appropriate. “Well, ok?” he answered. Apparently, Dad thought this an odd reason to call someone in the middle of the day, randomly, to say. I’d have to agree. But Adam continued.

“Well, those season tickets do come at a price. I promise to give you season tickets if you give me your daughter’s hand in marriage?”

My dad cried. And then agreed to the deal. But only half of it. He told Adam he’d forfeit the tickets if he’d promise to take care of me for the rest of my life.

Adam agreed.

The Truck

Benny, Adam’s truck, has a temper. Often, he throws fits. His most annoying temper tantrum has been ongoing for THREE months now. In December, after Adam’s dad fixed Benny’s broken passenger door, Benny decided to cease all forms of musical enjoyment. The radio, speakers, and all things music DO NOT work. And Adam hasn’t had the time, energy, or drive to heal Benny’s feelings. So, we travel without music. Every day.

The Proposal

April 4, 2011. What a day. What a beautiful day!! I woke up refreshed, alive, and slightly sun-kissed. Thank goodness. I was giddy the whole morning. It had been 9 months since that night on the hammock! NINE! Holy smokes, it went by SO FAST. Adam and I have grown so much. From guy to man. From Messy to Adam. From loneliness to love. From me to us. From baseball to God.

We spent most of the day together. Laughing, remembering, smiling. He was full of smiles. And I really like his smiles. We planned our day. I talked him in to going to the Cougar Sport’s Awards, even though he already had his own plans. So we went. My Persistence dressed him up in slacks, a white collared shirt, a crimson tie, and a blazer. And some random sunglasses…I wore a back dress, a heel, and a boot. Yes, one heel and one boot. Because I’m a clumsy athlete and can’t keep myself healthy. He sat at the baseball table. I sat at the track table. But I was missin him. After a couple hours, we left. Off to Smoky Mountain, we were. Excited for our chicken-pasta-goodness. But Adam was being weird. We got into Benny, much easier than into the Jetta, and he started driving to Moscow. In circles. As many might know, Adam is sub-par in his directional abilities. He takes the wrong lefts, goes straight when he’s supposed to turn right, and exits traffic when the destination is 2 miles ahead. It’s cute. But his bad sense of direction was a bit unappreciated at the time. I was hungry. Starving. And he didn’t know where he was. Or so I thought. He twisted and turned his way through Pullman, and ended up, finally, on Airport Road. It was dark, the windshield was soaked, and I was happy. I love Airport Road. So does he.

Adam was insistent upon having me notice how bright oncoming headlights were. Yeah? I thought. He flashed his brights on and off. On and off. He had officially lost his mind? No. No, it was purposeful.

We were halfway to Moscow and he decided, suddenly, to stop the truck. I was far too confused. Now what? He put on his sunglasses, reached behind him, and got out of the truck. Butterfly attack. The biggest swarm ever. He walked out to the front of Benny. The glaringly bright headlights were his spotlight. He got down on one knee. And from inside the truck, I cried. And he got to watch. Because of the sunglasses. In the pouring rain, he waited for me. I climbed out of Benny and into a familiar memory. Only this time, Adam and I had changed places. And this time, I was the one struggling to get out of the car. I walked to him with uneven steps. Boot. Heel. Boot. Heel. So Kendall. In my fancy dress and done-up hair, I stood in front of the man I’ve loved since that first date. The rain didn’t matter. My hunger didn’t matter. Adam’s map skills didn’t matter.  It was just me. Just him. And just God.

He asked if I would marry him on that rainy highway. Down on one knee. Soaking wet. And as handsome as I’ve ever seen him. He spoke to me in truth and honesty, and his words were perfect. I think my exact response was, “Of course I’ll marry you!” But in a very I’m-so-happy-that-I-can’t-even-form-reasonable-sounds voice. I sat on his knee and gave him the biggest hug I knew. Time stopped for a while, and waited patiently for us as we caught up to Reality.

We were flirting with the dangers that accompany a two-laned, unlit, rain-showered highway. And I was freezing. We hurried back to Benny. Boot. Heel. Boot. Heel. Smiles from ear to ear. Adam gave me a kiss, put the truck in drive, and headed for Smoky. Not 5 seconds later, we got our confirmation. MUSIC! Country music! On the radio! In Benny! Adam and I exchanged incredulous stares. NO. WAY. The second round of waterworks began immediately. How that happened, I don’t know. The system in that truck hasn’t worked in months. God must have been smiling. That’s our only answer. And it’s ok with us!

We listened to George Strait all the way to Moscow. Me in the middle, holding his arm, in tears. I’ve never been more happy.

We ate our fill, Adam drank his Coke, and the waiter snapped a few more pictures. Conversation was relentless. And if I had things my way, I’d still be sitting in that booth. Giddy and butterfly-filled. Just talking. To my fiancé. About God and Love and everything that happens in between. But darnit, things just don’t work like that! Instead, he drove me home. And for those next 10 minutes, Adam and George sang me love songs.

I thank God every day for blessing me with Adam. For his love and kindness. For his loyalty and respect. For his honesty and diligence. For his friendship and strength. And also for His Persistence.

And today, when I got into Benny, there was no music. Just for the record.

  I love you, Adam. And I can't wait to be your wife.