the boy, new places and growth
Written on October 30th, 2019:
I look at the calendar and I feel my heart doing a little dance: my mom arrives for a short visit tomorrow, it's October in all its glorious autumnal beauty (this quote pulls at my heartstrings), a second Thanksgiving awaits, the holiday season is slowly approaching (and I do believe my entire life has been leading up to the point I would experience Christmastime in New York City)... and, just next week, I will alight from a plane in London and see the boy again (happy sigh).
We are headed to London to celebrate his sister Heidi's wedding to her British beau, Ross. I am so grateful I will be apart of the festivities and that I can spend time with his sweet family (I love them so).
Per usual, I am counting down the days until the two of us are together again. The other day, I found myself dreaming of what our time will be like in spite of our lack of a plan: a walk in Hyde Park under the pitter-patter of rain, exploring the North and South Bank with his extended family, calling each other "wedding dates", sipping afternoon tea with him by my side, exploring the British museum and the books at John Sandoe, an evening show at St. Martin's theatre... and the thought dawned upon me:
how fortunate we are, that our love story does not have a single backdrop.
Having been dating long distance for over three and a half years (!!!), our relationship has no specific location. We met in Friedrichsafen, a little town in Germany -but our friendship really sparked in Salzburg and in Barcelona. I'd say we fell in love in Piran, a pearl of a city in Slovenia, but our dating relationship really only began in Montreal. It was there and in Vancouver that we would experience togetherness in the following years, but this time would be punctuated by dates in St. Louis, Philly, Seattle, Salmon Arm, Ottawa, Quebec City etc. etc.
And, of course, New York.
There was that day in May 2017 that we had spent in the city following our dear friends' wedding in Pennsylvania with two other friends who had studied with us at Bodenseehof. It was an awfully blustery day but we knew then what has only become truer to me since: New York City is a whole new kind of magic under the rain. We had coffee at Corvo, brunched at Maison Kayser by Columbus Circle, roamed the Plaza for fun, walked from Grand Army Plaza to the MET under rainfall (whilst singing ABBA, I might add), studied European sculptures and Degas and Rothko too, window shopped along 5th avenue, sought out our first poke bowls in SOHO by night. We loved the city, promising each other we'd be back again one day.
Little did we know it would be just two years later, with me living here.
He came in August -during a week both sultry and bright- along with his sweet family who'd planned a vacation here (I felt so loved!). Our time together was everything imagined and hoped for, and we agreed it was, perhaps, the best visit we've shared yet. While I worked, he and his folks went on adventures of their own -and I can't tell you how sweet it was for us to live in the same city for a week, even if not side by side the whole time!
With that, we have yet another magical place to call our own as we do life together, step by step.
Together, we:
Our conversation was spirited as always, both in joy and in grit - as we talked about the things that we love or disdain in unison, and as we pulled up our sleeves to work through the things upon which we staunchly diverge. In fact, our trip ended with a conflict (long since resolved, praise God!), and while I won't flesh out the particulars, I deem it important to mention.
One might find it strange that I would point out our disagreements at the close of this post -but I think such strains are at the very heart of the beauty of our time together. As we press forward with palms ever extended heavenward -continuously seeking divine wisdom for the future, and choosing the other over and over again -we also are weeding out the sins and hurts and lies and disagreements that prevent us from putting down roots together in healthy soil. We pray, above all else, to have a partnership bearing fruit which points others to our source, our God. This will be utterly impossible, however, if we avoid or ignore those ugly things hidden deep within each of us, causing us to push the other away. For the garden to bloom, the gardener must come remove what is rotten and toxic. As we vigorously walk through moments of conflict, we learn to make space for Him to do work in both of us.
One thing we always agree on is this: the chafe of sanctification is uncomfortable -painful- and we are forcefully made aware of this in human relationships. But through it, we grow in holiness as burgeons grow in well-tended flower beds. We know we have yet much (much) to learn about the refiner's fire: but we don't shy away from it, and we are quick to remind each other that we are better for it. Iron sharpening iron.
So, even with the harder moments, I can say in certitude that this visit was everything I'd imagined, yet so very much more. With that, another beautiful place is added to our own unique backdrop.
Weeks have since past, and I think back to this trip and think: these are the days. Full of life and love and dreams, we find each other naturally and happily - and our times together answer every question or doubt that the strains of distance would dare plant in our heads. These are the days, I whisper to myself, as I think of our hearts being sewn together, stitch by stitch, by God's loving hand. These are the days long wished and prayed for -and I'm so, so deeply grateful it hurts.
And one more thing: this was one of our very last goodbyes, and that sounds a whole lot like amazing grace to me.
I look at the calendar and I feel my heart doing a little dance: my mom arrives for a short visit tomorrow, it's October in all its glorious autumnal beauty (this quote pulls at my heartstrings), a second Thanksgiving awaits, the holiday season is slowly approaching (and I do believe my entire life has been leading up to the point I would experience Christmastime in New York City)... and, just next week, I will alight from a plane in London and see the boy again (happy sigh).
We are headed to London to celebrate his sister Heidi's wedding to her British beau, Ross. I am so grateful I will be apart of the festivities and that I can spend time with his sweet family (I love them so).
Per usual, I am counting down the days until the two of us are together again. The other day, I found myself dreaming of what our time will be like in spite of our lack of a plan: a walk in Hyde Park under the pitter-patter of rain, exploring the North and South Bank with his extended family, calling each other "wedding dates", sipping afternoon tea with him by my side, exploring the British museum and the books at John Sandoe, an evening show at St. Martin's theatre... and the thought dawned upon me:
how fortunate we are, that our love story does not have a single backdrop.
Having been dating long distance for over three and a half years (!!!), our relationship has no specific location. We met in Friedrichsafen, a little town in Germany -but our friendship really sparked in Salzburg and in Barcelona. I'd say we fell in love in Piran, a pearl of a city in Slovenia, but our dating relationship really only began in Montreal. It was there and in Vancouver that we would experience togetherness in the following years, but this time would be punctuated by dates in St. Louis, Philly, Seattle, Salmon Arm, Ottawa, Quebec City etc. etc.
And, of course, New York.
There was that day in May 2017 that we had spent in the city following our dear friends' wedding in Pennsylvania with two other friends who had studied with us at Bodenseehof. It was an awfully blustery day but we knew then what has only become truer to me since: New York City is a whole new kind of magic under the rain. We had coffee at Corvo, brunched at Maison Kayser by Columbus Circle, roamed the Plaza for fun, walked from Grand Army Plaza to the MET under rainfall (whilst singing ABBA, I might add), studied European sculptures and Degas and Rothko too, window shopped along 5th avenue, sought out our first poke bowls in SOHO by night. We loved the city, promising each other we'd be back again one day.
Little did we know it would be just two years later, with me living here.
He came in August -during a week both sultry and bright- along with his sweet family who'd planned a vacation here (I felt so loved!). Our time together was everything imagined and hoped for, and we agreed it was, perhaps, the best visit we've shared yet. While I worked, he and his folks went on adventures of their own -and I can't tell you how sweet it was for us to live in the same city for a week, even if not side by side the whole time!
With that, we have yet another magical place to call our own as we do life together, step by step.
Together, we:
- Strolled through Bryant Park as night befell, shortly joining an audience of hundreds sprawled across the lawn for movie night in the park
- Met during my lunch break at Zucker's for bagels (grilled chicken for him, smoked fish for me) and discussed New York and God and politics on the public roof on 3rd
- Said "til later" as he went off to the Guggenheim and I finished my workday
- Grabbed a slice of Roberta's pizza at Urbanspace Vanderbilt
- Sipped cocktails at The Campbell, a hidden bar tucked in the depths of Grand Central to belatedly celebrate my birthday. Once office to a 1920s business mogul, the space is now an ideal spot to enjoy an old-fashioned and soul-achingly good jazz. We sat by an old stone fireplace, gaping at the room's wooden intricacies, brass accents and dark leather furnishings.
- Walked through the Main Concourse late at night
- Met my friends at Tudor City Greens while swigging a strawberry smoothie from Joe & the Juice
- Met with my team in the office, laughing away for over an hour ("you two are so sweet together", said my boss later)
- Joined again in front of the Chrysler Building, where he picked me up after work
- Took the 1 to the Upper West Side and dinner at Jacob's Pickles: Southern feast of sweet tea, fried pickles, buttermilk chicken, biscuits and mac & cheese (and a healthy amount of guilt afterward)
- Walk across Central Park to the Upper East Side eyes cast upward toward the stars, saying "sweet dreams" in the middle of the city of dreams
- Shared breakfast in my apartment on a sunny Friday morning, ever so thankful to see him in my space, ever so eager to share mornings like this for years and years to come
- Had dinner at Marseille with his parents in the Theatre District -with colorful tiled floors, large windows kept open... something like a restaurant off the Seine
- Shared cool cider at Bryant Park Cafe during the Accordion Festival
- Had breakfast at Blue Bottle Coffee, meeting a barista who'd lived in British Colombia and singed its praises
- Visited the 9/11 memorial and museum, heavy in remembrance
- Wandered the West Village and pointed out our favorite brownstones (because that's just what you do)
- Got a slice of Margherita and Pepperoni on Bleecker Street (the boy is, after all, an unapologetic fan of pizza)
- Enjoyed cups of ice cream at Milk Bar, for dessert
- Sat in Washington Square Park, holding hands and humming along to old jazz
- Watched the sun set from yellow to orange to starry blue from the Top of the Rock (touristy, sure, but even more than this: magical)
- Shared a cup of banana pudding from Magnolia Bakery (his words: the best thing ever)
- Went to my church, on the Upper East Side
- Spent Sunday afternoon walking around Williamsburg
- Discussed a book we are reading together at Devocion, over incredible Colombian coffee and a shared berry scone
- Made our way to DUMBO for an evening view of the Brooklyn Bridge (agreed this was the most adventurous bus ride of our life -ask me the story next time I see you!)
- Picnicked by the East River, with Shake Shack burgers and shared scoops of Ample Hills' oatmeal lace and ooey gooey butter cake
- Laughed a whole lot
- Peaked inside the Plaza, admiring every little detail
- Enjoyed an artful chai latte from Felix Coffee Roasters -perhaps the most beautiful coffee lounge in the city, à la Ken Fulk (read about its decor here)
- Met up for bowls of ramen by my office, come Monday
- Wondered what it would be like to live here one day; what it would be like to meet for lunch break Midtown week after week
- Walked the High Line with a milkshake from Creamline in Chelsea Market
- Witnessed the most brilliant sunset over the Hudson, and reiterated the rule about skies that look like paintings: you gotta kiss under 'em!
- Spent our last evening together by setting sail on a river boat around the harbor, watching as sunset pulled starts atop Manhattan
- Said our goodbyes by the Park Avenue Viaduct, catching glimpses of each other as we both looked back when walking away from each other
Our conversation was spirited as always, both in joy and in grit - as we talked about the things that we love or disdain in unison, and as we pulled up our sleeves to work through the things upon which we staunchly diverge. In fact, our trip ended with a conflict (long since resolved, praise God!), and while I won't flesh out the particulars, I deem it important to mention.
One might find it strange that I would point out our disagreements at the close of this post -but I think such strains are at the very heart of the beauty of our time together. As we press forward with palms ever extended heavenward -continuously seeking divine wisdom for the future, and choosing the other over and over again -we also are weeding out the sins and hurts and lies and disagreements that prevent us from putting down roots together in healthy soil. We pray, above all else, to have a partnership bearing fruit which points others to our source, our God. This will be utterly impossible, however, if we avoid or ignore those ugly things hidden deep within each of us, causing us to push the other away. For the garden to bloom, the gardener must come remove what is rotten and toxic. As we vigorously walk through moments of conflict, we learn to make space for Him to do work in both of us.
One thing we always agree on is this: the chafe of sanctification is uncomfortable -painful- and we are forcefully made aware of this in human relationships. But through it, we grow in holiness as burgeons grow in well-tended flower beds. We know we have yet much (much) to learn about the refiner's fire: but we don't shy away from it, and we are quick to remind each other that we are better for it. Iron sharpening iron.
So, even with the harder moments, I can say in certitude that this visit was everything I'd imagined, yet so very much more. With that, another beautiful place is added to our own unique backdrop.
Weeks have since past, and I think back to this trip and think: these are the days. Full of life and love and dreams, we find each other naturally and happily - and our times together answer every question or doubt that the strains of distance would dare plant in our heads. These are the days, I whisper to myself, as I think of our hearts being sewn together, stitch by stitch, by God's loving hand. These are the days long wished and prayed for -and I'm so, so deeply grateful it hurts.
And one more thing: this was one of our very last goodbyes, and that sounds a whole lot like amazing grace to me.
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