One year ago, just days before Lanie's birth, I felt depleted. Faced with end-of-the-year business decisions, a mile-long list of sewing orders to ship out, and the discomforts of my final weeks of pregnancy, I was weary. I looked at the stack of bills sitting on one side of the desk and the to-do list on the other and felt consumed.

While staring blankly at the computer screen, a familiar song came through Pandora: I Believe in You and Me by Whitney Houston. If you've read our engagement story, you might remember that this was the song Shawn chose to play when we got engaged on the ice at Rockefeller Center.

Seven years ago, as soon as I'd heard the first piano line of that song on the ice, I had known that very soon, Shawn would drop to one knee and ask me to be his wife. It was the moment I'd been dreaming about for months, and when it happened, tears had filled my eyes. In that moment, I had felt so cherished, so desired, so confidently loved. Even though I was normally very shaky on ice skates, I hadn't faltered once as we skated to the song because I felt so exquisitely free.

Years later, I heard that song come through the computer speakers and tears had again filled my eyes. This time, though, I felt so distant from that girl. Had that really been me? This time, I carried an enormous belly, dark circles under my eyes, and so many questions about what the next few months would hold. Two kids? Hospital bills? Taking maternity leave from the business?

As the song played, Shawn happened to be nearby and reached out to hug me as my tears began to fall. Mascara ran down my face as he held me, reading between the lines of what I was feeling. This time, though, I wanted to feel invisible. I didn't want him to see the baggage I carried - as if he hadn't already known - or the temptation toward hopelessness in my eyes. I wanted him to see the girl he fell in love with.

When I felt brave enough to look into his eyes, though, I knew exactly who he saw: the girl he loved 7 years ago and loved even deeper today, baggage and all. I felt raw, unmasked, but somehow more accepted than ever. I felt a deep sense that in being loved by him, my burdens had somehow been lifted.

Tim Keller, a pastor we really respect, often says that if your marriage is strong, you move out into the world in strength, no matter what else is going on in your life. If your marriage is weak, you move out into the world in weakness, no matter what else is going right in your life. From one side of that experience, I can say that is so true.

Ultimately, though, this isn't a post about how wonderful my husband is. He's amazing, no doubt, but he's still flawed. He sees my weaknesses and doesn't always love me perfectly in spite of them. And trust me: I am no perfect wife. Ultimately, we believe marriage is an earthly reflection of Jesus' great love relationship with us, His bride, and that we will one day be united to Him. We believe that one day, Shawn and I will stand together in heaven in complete wholeness and perfection before God and will look at each other and say, "I always knew you could be this wonderful." We will only have glimpses of that wholeness here on earth. But there, we will stand in awe before our Savior and be made complete: no jealousy, no anger, no lust, no sadness, no pride. Only healed relationships and worship.

Now, though. How does this change our lives now? Far too often, I carry the stress of being a wife and mother and nurse and so on all on my own. I think I can bear the weight of it. I even believe I can hide my flaws from my husband, the world, and the Lord. What I fail to believe in those moments is that God accepts me completely because, when He looks at me, He sees the perfect righteousness of His Son.

We talk about the "gospel" in our house quite a bit. It's probably our favorite word. But what is it? My favorite way to define the gospel is this:

We are more sinful and flawed in ourselves than we ever dared believe, yet at the very same time we are more loved and accepted in Jesus Christ than we ever dared hope. - Tim Keller

These days, it's easier for me to believe that first part. I have a pretty good grasp on my flaws, and I have an easy time hanging onto them, rehearsing them to myself, beating myself down. But that second part changes everything. As much as I ever hoped or dared to be loved, Christ loves me more. He loves me perfectly.

It's our 7th anniversary today, and I am grateful for a husband who would love nothing more than to point me - and everyone who crosses his path - to Christ. I pray that our marriage today and in 7 years and 57 years from now is a reflection of His lavish love.

So to my Shawn William, who loves me deeply and loves Jesus even more, Happy Anniversary. I will never get over the gift of being yours.

Overheard.

Liam and I spent the weekend in Ohio, celebrating my cousin's beautiful wedding. As I got dressed one morning, I listened to my grandparents chatting in the other room:

Grandpa: You know, you are one of the prettiest girls in town.
Grandma: That's not always what I see when I look in the mirror.
Grandpa: Oh, there's no doubt about it. You're one of the prettiest girls in town. And that comes from my heart.

Alzheimer's disease has stolen so much from him - even the recognition of his wife on many days - but deep down in the recesses of his mind, there's a redeeming thread of affection for his bride of over 60 years that can't be peeled away.

Notes from Saturday.

On Saturday night, I drove through downtown Raleigh for what felt like an hour, hunting for an open coffee shop with an open seat. Shawn had lovingly pushed me out the door at the mention of wanting a place to think and write. After accidentally stepping into not one but two hookah lounges, I finally landed in a loud, somewhat scuzzy café on a local college campus. (Raleigh friends, tell me your secrets. Where can I find a quiet, classy coffee or tea shop close that's not bursting at the seams?)

I scanned the crowd and saw a couple of students with dark-rimmed glasses and philosophy books piled high. I spied a nervous couple at the end of their first (and possibly last) date. I watched a guy with a flawless Afro tap the table to the beat in his neon headphones.

I felt... mom-ish. Frumpy. With crumbs in the bottom of my purse and a spot of dried applesauce on my jeans, I felt past my coffee-shop prime. I used to be one of them, a coffee shop dweller who whiled away hours with a laptop and a latte, complaining about how insanely busy I was. Busy enough to sip lattes most nights, apparently.

But it didn't take me long to close my eyes and remember my day. Isn't that the key so often? Not pining for what seems like the greener grass, and taking account of what has so graciously been given to you?

Saturdays in the Newby house have been declared Family Day, and there's absolutely no work allowed. No Etsy convos to answer. No sewing. No distractions from the little things, which are really the big things.

Here's what's allowed: Waking up without an alarm. Watching a couple episodes of Curious George. Serving up apple cinnamon pancakes and steaming cups of tea. Opening the back door wide to let the fresh air blow the smell of grass through our house. Finding bikes on Craigslist and exploring the Greenway all afternoon. Tending our baby garden. Kneeling next to the bathtub, scrubbing the day's dirt from between toddler toes. Looking into my favorite green eyes. Admiring my favorite dimples.

Saturdays are about creating open space: to breathe, to think, to give thanks, to just enjoy one another for maybe the first time all week.

Had I seen my latte-sipping 21-year-old self across the coffee shop that night, I'm not sure I would have seen a girl quite so content as the 28-year-old with crumbs in her purse and applesauce on her jeans. The 21-year-old I remember was constantly waiting for something. Constantly impatient. Just ready to move onto the next season already, surviving the current season in angst.

This season is different, and in many ways, better. Perhaps less adventurous. Definitely less spontaneous. But as I looked back at Liam in his bike seat as he took in the passing landscape with wide eyes, I told Shawn, "He's totally content." As I said it, I realized, so am I. Contentment: it's the one puzzle piece that's been missing from my life for so very long. It doesn't mean that every moment - or even every day - is happy. Just yesterday, I sat through the funeral of a very young man who took his own life, and I felt more sadness than I've felt in months. There are moments of self pity, of stress, of frustration. There are days when the budget feels too tight, the workload feels too heavy, and the moments of happiness and ease are few and far between.  But the thread of contentment, of deep peace, is woven so deeply in my soul that even the rough days don't shake my core like they used to.

The difference is Christ. Knowing Him and loving Him deeper and fuller than I did 7 years ago, I can say that the journey with Him just gets sweeter with time. I know that my circumstances have not brought more peace - we probably have tighter margins with time and money than we ever have. Life hasn't gotten easier. My new roles as wife and mom, as so many dream to become, do not fulfill every deep desire and need I have. He brings peace. He brings joy. As I have tasted and have seen, apart from Him is no good thing.

63 years.

Today my grandparents celebrated 63 years of marriage. It's hard for me to fathom 63 years of life on this earth, much less what 63 years married to one person must look like. For Grandma in these last few years, it's looked like a whole lot of work. A life altering sacrifice. My sweet Grandpa has been enduring the ugly, ravenous monster that is Alzheimer's, the disease that doesn't seem to stop until it's stripped a person of everything. Still, Grandma's courageous love for him has been unshakeable. Never stopping, never giving up.

Not too long ago, my Grandma told me over the phone that it had been a particularly rough day with Grandpa. I listened while she recounted his unsurprising stubbornness - one of his best qualities pre-Alzheimer's and the most difficult quality now - when it came to just about every part of his daily tasks.

But then she paused. And I'll never forget what she said: "I still remember watching him walk up the drive to pick me up for our first date. I was 16. It's still him. I love him, and I'll love him 'til the day I die."

Five years into our marriage, I can only hope for 58 more years of marriage to Shawn. I can only hope that when I look back over our lives, I'll look at him and say, It's still him. I love him, and I'll love him 'til the day I die. I can only hope that I'll be able to remember this afternoon. The day Shawn brought home Liam's first soccer ball from the store and unwrapped it excitedly, hoping for a reaction. I hope I'll remember the open field behind our first house. The hazy, glowing sun and warm wind that brought a welcome reprieve from a brutal winter. The way the light hit his hair. The way he picked up Liam so gently, loved him so deeply, smiled so big his eyes disappeared. The hopes we shared for our future as a family. It will still be him, and I will love him.

To my grandparents who have forged such a beautiful path ahead, thank you for the gift of your legacy. I know your love for each other isn't without flaws, but it sure is strong. And to your granddaughter who's been watching closely for the past 28 years, it's as beautiful as ever.

Five.

 

Five years ago on the morning of December 27th, I was taking a long, sudsy bath and lots of deep breaths as I prepared to walk down the aisle toward my new life as Shawn's wife that evening. 

Five years later, I sat at our breakfast table across from him, next to our dearly loved son, in a home we own in Raleigh, North Carolina. I never could've seen it coming, but I'm so thankful for the journey the Lord has us on. We've lived in three states together, traveled to more than 10 (and a couple countries), gotten a degree, landed a dream job, had a baby and lost another. It's been a full 5 years. 

Life across the breakfast table from Shawn, 

in the trenches of late nights and screaming babies with Shawn, 

in the pews of our new church next to Shawn...

I couldn't ask for anything better.

Happy 5th anniversary, my love! 

A few of our wedding photos here. 

There.

In Shawn's new position, he has Fridays and Saturdays off. We're trying to make the most of this extra time on our hands before we move into our house, so after a trip to Marbles Kids Museum this afternoon, we headed to the new Yellow Dog Bread Company to try it out.

As we hopped back in the car to head home, I took a sniff of the strong, dark roast coffee Shawn brought with him in a paper to-go cup, and it triggered a hundred memories. It brought me back to the earliest days of Shawn-and-Whitney, when we attended Grace Chicago in a small theater space just west of our school. We'd catch the #66 bus down Chicago Avenue on so many bitter cold mornings to attend the service.

There were low lights and velvet seats. There was a table full of fresh pastries, inviting congregants to feast. There was strong coffee swirled with cream, steaming from orange paper mugs. There was pensive worship, with a lead singer and a string consort who led with excellence and poise. There was a pastor who cried at the mention of grace.

The smell of that coffee brought me back, and it felt like I could've been back on Chicago Avenue, sitting quietly in that dimly lit room. The memory was so sweet it was painful. Painful because, even after many years, I still really miss the city.

What's sweet, though, is that I don't have to be alone in the remembering. I don't have to be alone in the missing, either. Shawn was there, too, tasting the coffee and the worship.

He was there when we'd bundle up and trudge through snow to the nearest Argo Tea to "study" - which actually involved a lot more learning about each other than learning our school curriculum.
He was there at the McDonalds on Ohio Street when he asked me on a real date and my face flushed red before I could even say yes.
He was there on our comical honeymoon cruise to central America when "jungle adventure" actually meant "incredibly depressing tour of hurricane-ravaged Mexico."
There when we photographed a wedding for a bridezilla and nodded in agreement: never again.
There when my water broke all over the seat of his car and we nervously knew it would be a matter of hours before our lives changed forever.
There in so much hurt, and there in so much joy.

He's here for the memories we're making today, too, and hopefully libraries full of memories we have yet to make. Here as we pass the days living in a basement, waiting not-so-patiently for the keys to our first house. He's here when I pull him into Liam's room to watch him sleep, while we smile with happy tears just under the surface. He's the one person in the universe who effortlessly understands when I ask, "Remember when ___?" and I hardly have to continue.

Traveling this bumpy, winding road by his side is so much better than going it alone.

27.

via Instagram @whitneynewby

 Over my birthday dinner last night, Shawn asked me to list my top three moments from my 26th year.

"That's easy," I said, remembering what a packed year 2012 was for me. "Getting my nursing degree, starting my first hospital job, and having a baby."

"I don't think those are really your favorites," he said confidently. (He knows me too well.)

So I started over.

"Finding out we were having a baby. Spending 9 months with just me and him, talking to him and singing hymns to him. Seeing his face for the first time when you laid him on my chest." As I said those things, tears came to my eyes. Because it's all true. I always knew I wanted to be a mom, but never had a clue how much I would adore being his mom. And those moments last year were too precious for words.

Needless to say, we missed our little guy yesterday as we ventured to Chicago, but we savored the uninterrupted time together, the incredible food, and the sweet friends we saw.

What a blessing to have been given another year. This past year was pretty big. This next year has a lot of potential (and a lot of unspoken hopes and prayers). Thank you for all your sweet birthday messages. Your constant encouragement is such a gift.



PS - It's hard for me to believe that this was my 6th birthday to spend with Shawn! My 21st was before we were dating, and Ilene reminded me of this picture taken during our fun trip to New York that year... Time flies.

One proud wife.

The song is now on iTunes! :)

Click on the photo to purchase it!

"I will stay with you."

Remember how Shawn wrote me a song for our anniversary?

Well, he cut a rough demo of it with the help of my dad on the night of our anniversary, and he's letting me share it. I'm too proud of him not to. I hope you love it just a tiny fraction as much as I do. :)



(If you're reading the post through Reader, click over to the blog to hear the song!)

UPDATE: You can now find the song on iTunes! :)

Four years.

Four years ago today, I said "yes" to becoming Shawn Newby's wife. It was one of the best decisions I've ever made... even better four years later than I realized then.

Getting married two days after Christmas, our anniversary tends to get shoved to the side with family in town, after-Christmas sales, and just plain busyness. But I want Shawn - and everyone - to know just how blessed I feel to be his wife for these four amazing years.

I'm thankful that our marriage doesn't require a ton of hard work. Someday, it may. But for these last four years, Shawn has made being his wife so easy. Having fun and enjoying each other comes really naturally most days. We not only love each other, we really like each other, and I don't take that for granted for a second. Being best friends with your spouse is such a gift. He has taught me so much about what servant leadership looks like, by example. He truly serves me and our family through his hard work, and I love that Liam has him to look up to.

This morning we watched our wedding video, and just after it finished, Shawn asked if he could give me a gift. He went to the other room, and when he returned, he was holding his guitar. I knew what it meant immediately and tears started rolling down my face... he had written me a song. I sat there, holding my sleeping son, listening to my incredible husband play the most beautiful song, and I almost couldn't believe it. How did God bless me like this?! It's so far beyond what I've ever deserved.

Happy 4th Anniversary, Shawn. I can't wait for 40 more.

PS - Happy 32nd Anniversary to my parents! It's a great day to get married! :)

Happy birthday, Shawn!

My love,
You turn 26 today! Without further ado, here are 26 of the hundreds of reasons I love you...

1. You dream big.
2. You are a passionate worshipper.
3. You learned to sew this year to help me with our business (and are really good at it).
4. You don't complain.
5. You love reading the classics.
6. You have impeccable taste in designer jeans.
7. You speak fluent German. Even though I rarely hear it, it's so impressive.
8. You pray for me and Liam every day.
9. You work tirelessly to provide for our little family.
10. You take out the heavy trash.
11. You love cities as much as I do.
12. You're an encourager.
13. You willingly take Liam in the mornings so I can get a couple hours of uninterrupted sleep.
14. You prioritize our date nights.
15. You take your time over a good meal.
16. You give great neck massages.
17. You clean our house faster and better than I ever do.
18. You don't get annoyed that I text you all day long.
19. Every time I get in your car and you start it up, the stereo starts playing a Tim Keller sermon you've been listening to.
20. You like eating healthy and keeping your body strong.
21. The way you look at Liam makes me melt.
22. The way Liam looks at you makes me melt.
23. You are wise with money.
24. Your eyes are full of life.
25. You've been right by my side on the two most important days of my life.
26. You're my best friend. Always will be.

I love you, Shawn Newby!

Happy birthday!

Radnor.

There's a short list in my mind of the things I think Baby L will know when he gets here:
... His mommy's heart beat
... His daddy's singing
... Tim Keller's voice
... Radnor Lake

It's here at Radnor Lake that Shawn and I spend at least a couple of afternoons every week. I bring comfy clothes for Shawn to change into straight from work, and we walk at a pace to beat the sunset.

It's gorgeous here. Lush. Quiet. Crisp.
It's an easy jaunt for Shawn, and an actual workout for 36-week-pregnant me.
Shawn skips along without breaking a sweat, while I brace my belly with my hands on the steep parts and endure Braxton Hicks contraction after contraction. I have this gut feeling that one of these days, it'll be here at Radnor that I go into labor. I would love that. I'm not so sure Shawn would. :)

But the best part is our talks. Our long and busy days are winding to a close, and there's a sense of life and peace and contentment among us. Because we're together. Together at Radnor.

We pass a lot of babies in carriers and strollers and I still can't believe we're about to join them in a few short weeks. It won't be long until we need to hike in a more public place - you know, just in case I go into real labor when we're miles out - but for now, I really love this little tradition we have.

The weekend: his, hers, ours.

his:

Catching an early flight to Chicago

Sipping Intelligentsia coffee

Walking down Elm Street

Officiating his first wedding on the deck of a boat in Lake Michigan

hers:

Catching up on orders

Lunches and dinners with friends

Soaking up alone time at a coffee shop before baby comes

Watching You've Got Mail twice

ours:

Sunday naps

Pot roast at Mom and Dad's

Skyping with family and friends in Germany (a big birthday for Papa!)

Sushi dinner with friends

Lots of hugs to make up for lost time

Hope your weekend was sweet!