Taking Up Arms

A few days ago I received news that one of my college roommates has cancer. The prognosis that she relayed, if immediately undergoing chemotherapy, is good. This news rocked my world. It totally changed my perspective on the trials in my life that now seem so trivial, so petty. I think the biggest thing that shook me was the knowledge that her life will never be the same, never the way she planned.

How often does our life plan get shifted? How do we respond?

Meg, my friend, is literally fighting for her life. The doctors tell her that her chances of winning the battle and coming out on the other side cancer-free are good.

Spiritually, we are all fighting for our life. Some rest in the deceptive self-assurance that they know all the moves the enemy is making and they will be okay. Some, unknowingly, trust in unreliable leaders to pull them through, successfully.

I trust in a God who has already won the war and, today, declares me victorious. I don't have to fight for my life, Jesus did that for me.

My prayer is that Meg comes to know that her fight has already been fought and that she can rest in victory. In the end, everything else really is...irrelevant. Even cancer.

twenty seven

Tomorrow I will turn 27 years old. Twenty-seven. 20 + 7. 30 - 3.

When I was in high school one of my best friends had two older cousins who lived in New York City. They are incredibly brilliant girls; strong-minded, independent, working professionals, fashionistas, beautiful, non-profit founders, and happy. The two sisters always smiled. The oldest was 27 and worked for an art magazine that featured up-and-coming New York artists who specialized in a variety of media.

I can remember envisioning myself being 27 and being like the cousins; writing for a major magazine, owning a rent-controlled studio apartment in Manhattan, independent, beautiful, and happy.

My life today is not how I imagined it to be when I was 16 and enamored by those before me. Part of me still desires to write for a major magazine because that is what I love to do. Part of me still desires a rent-controlled studio apartment in Manhattan because that life is full of adventure. In my own way, I am still independent. However, I am recognizing the blessing of a fabulous husband and the support he brings to my life. There is freedom I am granted by letting go and letting him. He makes me feel beautiful. And last, but so first, I am happy. I am redeemed, restored and loved.

Come on 27, I'm ready.

Sweet Sounds

While studying abroad in London (2006) I met up with an old friend of mine-an English lad (I felt compelled to use "lad" at some point during this post, so there it is). I hadn't seen him in years, so we caught up a bit and before we parted he handed me a cd featuring some songs of his brother's band. I'm no music expert, but I quickly fell in love with the band's sound.

It's been, literally, years since I've listened to Flight Brigade but I stumbled upon this video of the band and thought I'd share. 

Internet, meet Flight Brigade.

Please don't shrink

I shrink shirts. I am domestically challenged in so many ways. The most frustrating, perhaps, is laundry, for the following reason.

Newly wed and underpaid results in a tight budget. Therefore, I rarely buy new clothes. When I do, however, I am incredibly meticulous in figuring how each item will fit into my wardrobe and I attempt to calculate the practicality of every thread. A lot of thought is required before I commit to a purchase.

While in New York, Chad and I committed to several purchases at H&M.  I just shrunk two of mine. Grrr!

I awakened with uncommon Saturday morning energy and pounced on the overflowing hamper early. When I returned to the laundry nook after dusting I made my discovery. Shirts that look they were designed for five year olds. Grrr again!

So, I took my coffee and retreated back to bed with my laptop, complete with a Sarah Bareilles Pandora station, and here I am venting via keyboard with my pup at my feet. I think I'll stay here for a little enjoying my caffeine and peace before I go to tackle the rest of the house and put my laundry blunder behind me.

Here's to a new year filled with new beginnings and, hopefully, successful new loads of laundry.

Thanks for reading...much love...

Happy 2012

Cliche or not, a new year calls for a new blog post. I hope you all enjoyed family, laughter and peace of the holidays. I most certainly did.

Chad and I lugged our sweet dog, luggage and gifts from Charlotte to New York to spend a week with my family. We made a pre-destination pitstop in the big apple to visit a college roommate of mine in Queens. Together we enjoyed dinner, desserts and escapades throughout festive Manhattan. I adored spending time with Cassie. We laughed just as easily as we did when we lived together.

Christmas in upstate New York was so great! I realized how truly blessed I am to have a loving, encouraging and giving family. Perhaps my favorite part of my time at "home" was sharing most of it with my older sister. Stacey and I seem to be the closer now than we have ever been. She is an incredible mother and watching her love on her two munchkins just about melted my heart.

After two glorious weeks off, my routine has returned. Here's to a new year filled with many blessed opportunities!

All my love...

The Keith Holidays

I hope you all had a great Thanksgiving holiday filled with family, laughter and lots of good food. For the fourth year in a row I enjoyed a Keith Thanksgiving complete with its southern charm.

Thanksgiving lunch is always held at Chad's grandfather's house; the home of Harold Keith, father to seven children-three boys and four girls. All of Chad's aunts and uncles are grandparents except Wayne and Renee, my in-laws. So when the Keith clan gathers for Thanksgiving lunch, there is little room to sit. The small house is full of treasures and trinkets that speak to the family that grew up within its four walls; endless picture frames, counted cross-stitch mementos of 50 years of marriage, multiple sets of elaborate china, and couches worn thin by the presence of family and friends. Turkey and all the "fixings" are spread across the empty counter space in the kitchen. The buffet boasts turkey, ham, stuffing, sweet potato casserole, green bean casserole, baked macaroni and cheese, chicken pot pie, yummy rolls, carrots, beans, corn, vegetable casserole, cranberry sauce, gravy and sweet tea to drink.

After lunch we scurried home for a couple hours to let out the dogs (we were dog sitting for friends) and nap before heading out for dinner at Chad's parents. We were joined there by Cameron (Chad's older brother), his wife Emily, Weston (Chad's younger brother), his girlfriend Amanda, and Rick (Chad's uncle). It was really a joyous day.

Yesterday Chad and I welcomed Christmas into our home. Since we are heading to New York for about a week over the holiday we wanted to savor every minute of Christmas in our own home. We picked up a tree at a local Christmas tree lot and decorated it in our red and gold ornaments. I used some of the tree trimmings to make homemade garland on our mantle and the windowsill over the kitchen sink. Every year we accrue more holiday decor and I feel like it is starting to shape into my final vision on our own Keith Christmas.

Enjoy the start of your holiday season.

The Pitch

Growing up with a European father causes a small child to believe that there is only one sport in this world:  football (soccer). March Madness was March Sanity; the Super Bowl was an unobserved event; our World Series participation ended when my father asked my mother how many points a home run was worth. Naturally, I began playing the game shortly after I realized legs were meant for walking and stopped only after my junior year in college. Lazy Saturday mornings were spent watching Dennis Bergkamp lead the Dutch national team, or David Beckham's set plays continue to befuddle opposing players. To me, that was home.

Today, I share the couch with my husband, captivated by the 3-3 Germany versus Ukraine friendly. My husband, born to American parents, grew up watching every sporting event I didn't. Soccer was as foreign to him as marrying a Yankee. He has recently taken an enthusiastic interest in all things soccer: the English Premier League, Bundesliga, the Dutch national team, figuring out the ins-and-outs of a game I fell in love with at an early age. Watching him taking the time to learn and appreciate something so special to me warms my heart. To me, this is home.