Karis :: Birder, Giggler, Listener to Hearts

There is something very surreal about a younger sister getting married. I can only imagine what Mom and Dad must be feeling.

Then and Now overlap and tug at each other when I look at her so happy with him, and I can’t help but remember the last two decades and two.

After all, this was the little sister who swelled our mommy's belly while I was five and six—old enough to remember the conversations with Baby through her shirt while Daddy held the camcorder.

This was the baby who made me so proud because her crib was in my room. We played peekaboo in the glow of the night-light in defiance of bedtime because her giggle was the best sound in the world.

This was the munchkin with the long lashes and the shock of crazy hair that stood up straight like something electrified in our family Christmas picture.

This was the kid who got a broken collarbone because my concern for the “rules” overshadowed my concern for her. And then she forgave me and never seemed to remember that it was my fault.

This is the little roommate who lay under me in her bunk and asked me to tell her about Heaven. So I did, and I never knew until our twenties that those late-night whispered talks had led her to Jesus.

This is the comedian whose talent for voice impressions from movies makes us howl with laughter. I am still convinced that she could work for Disney and make millions.

This is the peacemaker, the tenderhearted friend of every left out and lonely girl in the lunchroom.

This is the bird-watcher, the giggler, the listener to hearts.

This is the little sister who has become a best friend, an equal, an example of love to me.

Baby sister, beautiful woman, I am standing with you. As you promise love to each other forever, I promise too.

I promise to always be your friend,
to always pray for you and Mark,
to always be a loving aunt to your future babies,
and to always be your sister in every sense of the word.

Keeping up with the Castilles:: Debt, Dancing, and Deaconization

Hello, my sweet family and friends!

Obligatory bluebonnet picture. The sun was bright. :P

It's been a while since I visited this little patch of internet. The sheer volume of documents at work has kept my fingers tapping constantly, and they feel the ache of repetitive motion by the end of the day. Most evenings, I can't wait to grab my gym bag and give my body a chance to sweat out the stiffness of a day spent sitting. 

Not only does my body shun the thought of sitting at the computer, sometimes words are just...gone.

For a highly verbal external processor who majored in Communication, it is an odd feeling to reach inside and find nothing.

Uhhhhhhh...me no have words. Come back later. 

But the Lord has been good. In the middle of the constant phone ringing at work, I feel His presence. When I'm feverishly typing out thirty emails, processing over a hundred new documents, and telling the tenth student in a row how to run a degree evaluation, He is with me, giving me gentleness when I just don't have any left to give out.

And He keeps giving me times of refreshing. There was a recent tickle fight with my husband. There were tacos shared at our tiny table with friends. And check out the new flowers popping up in my garden!

But since it's been a while--and because last week enjoyd a rare vacation in Dallas and had some time to work on a post--I thought I should take the chance to catch you up on some recent highlights. 

Here's the first one, and it's a doozy....

WE ARE DEBT FREE!!

When I met my hubby, he had paid off his loans. But then he said "I do", and cheerfully agreed to start from ground zero with mine.

After two and a half years of renting small, driving old, (and the generosity of my sweet Grandma Elaine who set up an amazing little trust fund for each grandchild at our births), we sent the last payment for my student loans two weeks ago!

Actual photo of the last payment! 

Oh, there was no sweeter sound than that last mouse click. We totally did a happy dance in our living room. Thank you, God!


SPEAKING OF DANCING...

 The students in our homegroup threw an amazing, retro dance party for my man's 34th birthday! Everyone picked a decade, and we *literally* tore up the vinyl dance floor with music spanning every era of the past century.

There were twinkling lights, a photo backdrop bedecked with handmade paper discs, chocolate covered strawberries, and even--to my allergy-prone husband's delight--a gluten free chocolate cake! Seriously, those girls outdid themselves.

I have a personal theory that most of us weren't done playing dress up by the time we reached the age when we were too cool to do such things. And this is why adult costume parties exist.

My hubby was genuinely touched. In all the years that he has been leading a homegroup,  the students had never before thrown such an amazing party for him. He felt so loved and celebrated.

And then last Sunday, we celebrated for another reason...

HUBBY BECAME A DEACON!

This step has seriously brought us to our knees, totally flabbergasted at the goodness of God. When my husband came to our church in 2003, he was a college junior with spiked hair, energy that would rival a twelve year old, and no real concept of community.

Since then, my man has been mentored, discipled, trained, and encouraged by godly men in our church. As the years have gone by, he has become a mentor, a trainer, an encourager for younger men, all while continuing to receive love, correction and support from others.

It's a beautiful cycle as we build up each other. When all serve, all are served. 

As he and the husband of my friend stood at the front of the church to be named deacons, our pastors prayed, and I bowed my head over my open hands.

I've realized that receiving the title "deacon" is a bit like being officially named a janitor. Deacon is literally Greek for servant. And serving means continually dying to self, continually allowing the Lord to empty you--of pride, of expectations, of yourself. It isn't glamorous, self-fulfilling, or comfortable.

But Jesus served. He died to himself in every way imaginable, all the way to the ultimate obedience at the cross. And if serving knits us closer to his heart, makes us more like Him, then I say bring it on.

Another sister is spoken for!

My last big announcement on the blog happened in August when I shared the news that my sister, Sharon, and her husband are expecting a sweet new baby in January. (Click here to see the adorable way they told our parents!)

Now, I have more exciting news...

MY SISTER, KARIS, IS ENGAGED!!!!

I'm honestly not sure which is making me smile more--my happiness for her happiness, or my excitement over gaining this guy as a brother! Mark is an amazing dude, and I can't imagine a better man for my little sister.

He had reserved a wing of a museum they loved. He had pulled all the strings, set all the details, asked my dad's blessing, and kept her completely in the dark through the months of planning.

When she walked in, their favorite song was playing, and a collection of easels set in a semi-circle proclaimed "I love you, and always will."

Between the easels was a table topped with a Bible flipped open to their favorite verse, a picture of the two of them, and a basket shaped like a bird's nest containing the most beautiful little ring.

Did I mention that she loves birds? *swoon*

When he knelt to propose, the music was too loud for her to hear well, so they both ended up on their knees, face to face, tearfully hugging after he slipped the ring on her hand.

Mark's little brother captured the whole thing on video! (When I watched it at work for the first time, I was ambushed by tears of happiness. So if you cry easily like me, consider yourself forewarned.)

They haven't set a date yet, but I'm sure they won't wait long! 

Love in San Antonio

Last month, my love and I stole away from everyday life to celebrate our 3-year anniversary in San Antonio. We were a month or so late, but who cares, right? What a fun, exciting city! 

Each summer since we married in 2011, we've tried our best to set aside a little money so we can step out of our normal routine and go celebrate each other. We know it may not be possible every year to actually leave town, but we're making the most of it while we can! 

This year, we were excited to stumble across a Groupon deal for a hotel within walking distance of the Riverwalk.

Even though I've lived in TX all my life, it was my first-ever time to visit the Alamo. (I know, you're probably thinking I'm the worst Texan ever...but better late than never!) 

Because of its prominence in TX history textbooks and movies, I think I expected the building itself to be bigger. The portion pictured above was actually one of the smaller parts of the low, single-storied compound. Admission to the grounds was free, but we quickly realized that our knowledge of the site and the battle fought there was pretty pathetic. Trying to figure out the story from the signs and displays was overwhelming, so...

we bought a set of audio tours! 

 Seriously, it was the best $10 we spent on the whole trip. 

We also bought a sno cone--and the experience of buying it next to the Alamo--for the low price of $4.

It was delicious. 

A roaming mariachi band kept popping up at different points throughout the day, offering their music to families lunching outside. Finally, I asked one of the band members if I could take his picture. 

Nice tie, senor. 

We walked miles of sun-dappled narrow sidewalks lined with river on the left and restaurant tables on the right. 

The walk was beautiful, but it finally wore us out. We found a steakhouse and plopped our tired selves into the barstools--the only seating available. 

The large group in the back appeared to be celebrating a birthday. A woman was trying to give a speech, but we could tell that she was having a hard time making herself heard. The restaurant staff found a microphone for her, and suddenly we were part of the audience. 

Her husband was celebrating his retirement from the military after a long career. We lingered over the end of our meal to enjoy the stories of a man we didn't know. 

We left feeling romantic, thinking about growing old together like the couple we'd seen. We are still only at the start of this beautiful journey. 

We heard jazz music and followed it to an Italian cafe for dessert. We had coffee and tiramisu and conversation with a Hawaiian bartender named Rodger who ended up making the tiramisu complementary when he heard why we were in town. 

The jazz music was live, and the singer decided we needed a song to call "our song". 

He sang "What are you doing with the rest of your life?" while we danced between the tables. 

Still sometimes can't believe that we're grown and married and can do grownup things like rent a hotel in a beautiful city and explore it together.

And guess where our church's next church plan team is going? UT San Antonio! I had no idea while we were there, but now that I know, I am super excited! I can already imagine the team having homegroup hangouts on the Riverwalk, talking with passerby about Jesus, and enjoying the fun music scene.

Related Links:

My thoughts on our *actual* anniversary this year. 

The crazy adventures we had on our first anniversary. (crazy is not an exaggeration!)

A letter to the bride

Little cousin, you were so lovely that weekend, radiant in your womanhood and your love.

You ran to us the night we arrived for your rehearsal dinner, all glowing and breathless with arms flung wide, and I felt like years and miles hadn't mattered at all.

You are no longer the doe-eyed little girl who made flower chains with my sister and begged us Olders to "be the bad guys" for your games. You no longer climb trees barefoot, sharing secrets with the Twin Cousin and concocting pranks for your big brother.

That was precious, but this, this new season you've joined us in--this is glorious.

You made those forever promises as you stood in your lace, and I leaned close to my own love and let the vows re-imprint themselves on my resolve.

You will see--weddings get a new layer of richness and meaning after you have your own.

The East Coasters were the last pockets of family to finally meet my husband. It felt like your new love and mine were initiated into the clan on the same fun-filled, rain-blessed weekend. Every outrageous game of Brandi Dog and Farkle, every crochet stitch taught--they turned our far-flung lives into community again and I remembered how much I love our family.

The couple that started it all: Grandma and Grandpa Beekman

Sweet cousin, I love you. I love the love I see in you, between you both, and pouring out to everyone within reach.

I pray you keep choosing love. Keep choosing humility.
I pray you keep choosing to open yourselves to friendships, even when they move away or get pregnant before you do or take a while to return your calls.
That you will have grace for the budgeting foibles that will come.
That you find a beautiful new "family culture" as you discover how to do the oneness of marriage.

Aaaaannnd I secretly pray that you move to Texas. (Because that would be awesome!)

Three years ago this day

Last night you nuzzled close to my face in bed and we looked at each other in the dark.

"Three years!" you whispered. "That's crazy!"

And it is. But if this is crazy, well Sweetheart, I've decided I like crazy.

On that day three years ago, I was nervous and excited and my cheeks hurt from smiling but I just couldn't stop the grin that bubbled up and took over my face. I was declaring to the whole world that you were the man I wanted to follow as you follow Jesus. I was becoming yours, promising my heart and all my years until I die.

We only learn the magnitude of a promise when we live it.

I don't need the pictures to remember how your face trembled with emotion when I rounded that corner at the end of the aisle. The way our hands gripped each other and your eyes glowed as Ray said "husband and wife".

It was the first of all the moments following, but we've had even better ones since then.

I remember how we danced our feet sore and you did that crazy backflip that freaked out the mother you'd just waltzed. I remember how I blushed when you reached up for the garter.

Now you backflip for the neighborhood kids.

Three years ago this day I could not have known how I would love you now.
Or how your voice inflections would become mine.
How your allergies would create a new level of health for us both.
How I could love a second family so intensely.
How the curve of your arm and side could become home to me.

I love you, Darling. Like crazy.

*I started this post on Wednesday, our real anniversary, but had such a fun date that night that there was no chance to post until now. :)

Five Years with my Love

Yes, we are that couple.

The ones who still celebrate the anniversary of "this-is-when-we-started-dating". It might be corny, but I've always loved corny. Corny with extra cheese is my favorite.

Because it's fun.
Because it reminds us of where and why we started.
And because taking time to celebrate the past gives us that extra "oomph" to keep holding hands and pressing forward.

For the past three years, our dating anniversary has fallen during the Italy mission trip in Milan. How lucky can a girl get, right?

Each time, hubby has carved out an evening for a date.

It's just us two, walking arm in arm to some restaurant close by. We order wine. We dip bread in the oil that always tastes better here and we struggle to pronounce our food.

I sit and look at this man and think how blessed I am.

Our Crem Caramel della casa arrives, and it tastes like Mexican flan. Apparently, the hubby doesn't like flan but never knew. We giggle about it and I finish the whole thing.

I remember our first date-that-wasn't-a-date, before I knew he liked me. We sat at the coffee shop with a pastry between us, our forks plucking away at both ends. I refused the last bite. I took half. He laughed and took half. I took half again.

He thought I was ridiculous, but it was my family's way. Now, with the finished crem, I guess we're forming new ways.

Later we walk to another restaurant so he can have dessert. Chocolate mousse pie with candied pear on top. Takeout? Yes, thank you, we say.

There were no pictures. It was devoured too fast.

It seems unreal. Five years? My heart spills over with thanks for you, babe. I feel so hopeful for the next five years.

Scratch that--I meant the next five decades.