Our new puppy Belle (the ding-dong)...

So we got this puppy back around Thanksgiving.

She’s a Cocker Spaniel. That makes three of them in the house.

And, for as much as my parents complain about me being back home, they don’t seem at all upset about further crowding their formerly empty nest with canines. Shows me where I rank, I guess?

Her name is Belle, and she’s an adorable terror. She chews on everything, is constantly underfoot and is always giving these irresistible puppy eyes, for which I have no defense. But—and it’s important that you remember this, in light of the eyes—she’s naughtier than anything.

My mom insists that I don’t tell her she’s a “bad puppy.” Instead, I can only tell her she’s a good puppy who sometimes does bad things.

Which, I’m sure you’ll agree, is absolutely absurd.

You see what kind of nut house I’m living in here? ;-)

Bumbling bride-to-be...

Earlier tonight, I wolfed down a peanut butter cup Blizzard.

Eric drove me to it. He dared to tell me he was going to enjoy—alone!—the ice cream we bought—together!—the other day, which we haven’t had a chance to break out yet. So obviously I had to climb into my parents SUV in my pjs and drive to DQ.

And, besides, I deserved it. You see, Mom and I got a lot done today in all things The Big Event.

And, when you consider I don’t have a clue about what it means to plan a wedding, getting anything done is quite an accomplishment.

Here’s the deal: I’m just not That Girl. You know, the one who has had her wedding planned since first grade. That’s simply not me.

So I’ve been trying to feel my way through being a bride-to-be. But I’m still pretty clueless. In fact, one of the main ways I get by is through imitation. For example, mom and I went to this bridal expo the other day, and I could hardly focus on the vendors, through all the brides. I like to watch them, to see how it is exactly that I should be acting.

There’s a crowd of rock-toting ladies at the flowers table. Oh, well then, I’d better look there, too. Flowers must be important. Hmm, and look there—lots of Cloud Nine’s parked around the salon’s table. Don’t want to miss that one. Seems we might as well be wearing badges that say our date and colors. I’m sorry, I need colors? What? And a date? How about less than two months from now? Too soon? I needed to order a dress how long ago???

Trying to fit in ‘round these parts just isn’t easy for a gal like me.

But, alas, we did make some progress today. (Apparently, my mom has been planning on planning my wedding for quite some time…)

And I might just be a bride, yet—flowers, fancy salon ’do, colors and all.

Better than dust...

I love reading Psalms.

This morning it was Psalm 30, David's psalm to dedicate the temple. Which, interestingly, doesn't really say much about the temple at all. Hmm. Anyway, it's basically just David singing thanksgiving to God, for his repeated care and deliverance over David's lifetime. He recalls a circumstance in which he was desperate, and during which he cried to the Lord...

"To you, O LORD, I cry, and to the Lord I plead for mercy:
'What profit is there in my death, if I go down to the pit?
Will the dust praise you? Will it tell of your faithfulness?' "

What I love about psalms is, it's easy to get into the heart of the psalmist. As David praises God for all these things, it's natural that I look back on my life and see how the Lord has provided for me and delivered me. And that's no short list.

But I want to have the heart of the psalmist in this short passage, too. David here isn't just asking the Lord to rescue him merely so he can have more days on this earth. He's pleading for rescue so his continued life can be a vehicle of praise for the Lord, of telling of his faithfulness.

And so this morning, I'm reminded that I want my life to be better than dust. I want to use my days as a way to proclaim God's greatness and declare his faithfulness.

That's a sobering challenge to a woman who slips very easily lately into focusing on herself.

The story...

What I’ve gathered is that part of the engagement ritual involves the congratulator patiently sitting through the entire, detail-laden story of how The Boy asked, without any complaint, with much exclamation of excitement and with a grin goofy enough to match (if not exceed) the congratulateeeee’s. (I figured I’d put extra e’s there, since I sort of made up that word and I wanted to make it clear it wasn’t just a spelling error…)

So, hmm. I guess I’ll just tell the entire, detail-laden story and the rest is up to you.
When I met Eric at the high school in October, he wanted to hear more about Sudan, so we decided to get together that Sunday afternoon and talk about it. We ended up heading out to Matthiessen State Park and hiked for hours. He’s always said he knew that day that I was the woman he wanted to marry. So I guess you could say it’s a special place.

And now doubly special.

I have no idea why I agreed to go hiking Sunday, since it was in the single digits. And I also have no idea how I didn’t catch on that something was up. But, hiking we went. Through the snow and down into the dells at Matthiessen, the same trail we went on that first day.
And so we walked and did goofy Eric & Andi stuff, and every now and then, Eric would reminisce about that day—about what weird thing I’d done or what we’d been talking about or about what he’d been thinking.

And now I must interject a small bit of history/context. (Remember your congratulator duties…) Eric and I love the show, The Office. Love it so much that we can weave quotes into any conversation or make jokes that only we get. Well, on the show, the two main characters—Jim and Pam—are all in The Love. And Jim tells Pam a proposal is coming, she just can’t know when. So he starts teasing her, but randomly and solemnly asking questions like, “Pam, will you… get me a cup of coffee?” And in one scene, they’re walking down the street and Jim hits a knee and asks, “Pam, will you… wait for me while I tie my shoe?” So Eric just loves to pull out that one. Loves it.

So when he did it the first time that day—when his shoe truly was untied—I just gave him a “boy, this joke is getting old” groan and bounded on down the path.

End interjection.

We came to a stepping-stone crossing and Eric started to look around weirdly. And I think he was talking to himself? Something like, “Oh, I think this is it. Yeah, this is it. This is the place. Is this it?” And I realized he was talking to me. And I had no idea what he was talking about. Eventually I got that he was asking me if this was the place where he realized I was the woman he wanted to marry. And I gave him my best what-are-you-some-kind-of-fool look and reminded him that he certainly didn’t tell me of his realization that day. (He waited a few days, haha.)

I took the opportunity of his weird distractedness to rest on a snow-covered staircase at the end of the stepping stones.

And then he’s stooping to tie his shoe again. And I groan (loudly? whoops) and say, “Really, Eric, again?!” as he says, “Andi, I have two questions for you. First, will you… wait for me while I tie my shoe?”

And since—hello!—I didn’t really know the significance of the moment, I take the pause in conversation to exclaim about the status of my butt. “Man, my butt is cold!”

Which Eric wants recorded as the last thing I said before he continued…

“And second, Andi, will you… (he fetches the ring out of his pocket) marry me?”

(Question, women—will I ever forget that moment and the look on his face? Because I pray I never, ever do… Wow.)

I just sort of stared at him. Did a double take. And said…

“Are you for real?”

Which I think confused the poor guy. Because he gave me a weird look, then swiveled that little ring box he had suspended there back toward his face, to check and make sure the ring was still in there. And also as if to say, “Well, ummm… yes?”

I think at that point I snapped out of it. And got off my frozen butt and pulled him up (probably painfully, sort of by the neck?) to give him a big hug.

But then he realized I hadn’t answered. And he wasn’t going to have done all this work and not get a legitimate answer. So, he asked again. And I said absolutely I would marry him.

Then he prayed and gave the whole thing over to God.

And that’s… it. Aside from some other minute details that I simply can’t bear to bore you with. Oh, ‘cept that it wasn’t long before we realized it was freezing and made swift work of getting back to the car.

Long story short, I’m pretty much the happiest woman in the world. :)

Slacker blogger...

How can I even call myself a blogger, I’ve been gone so long?

For shame.

People keep asking me when I’m going to blog again. And I keep telling them, soon, soon. But I’d scratch things out now and then—on random pieces of paper or in margins of my journal—and then I would just never sit down and write.

But now you’re in for it. I’m going to try to open the flood gates this morning—get as much out there before I head to work.


It's been a while since I've posted any kind of pictures on here. This one has got to be one of my recent favorites. This is soon before we won--by getting the highest score--a round of mini-golf with some Bjerkaas family in Florida. We're kind of weird. But pride ourselves on winning. Obviously.

The big news...

I know what blog you’re all waiting for. And I’d rather wait until last to write this one, but I’ll be kind and just get it out there…

Eric asked me to marry him.

(I’ll pause while you all squeal and giggle. And your jaws drop because, “Wow, that was fast!” And some of you scratch your heads and wonder… “Hold on. Who’s Eric?”)

Isn’t that just wild? I certainly think so. I get to marry the man I’ve prayed for all these years! That’s absolutely insane. (Now I’ll pause while I squeal and giggle… again…)

Since I’ve never been much of a girlie girl, I’ve had to learn about this newly engaged thing as I’ve gone along. And in my… two full days… of education, I’ve learned that when I tell people, they want to know 1) how he did it and 2) just how beautiful my ring is. And, so, bear with me as I put my education into practice.

Second thing’s first. The ring is the most beautiful thing in the whole wide world. It’s perfect and simple and “Eric & Andi” in every way. What else do you say about it? (This part I haven’t learned yet.) Um, it sparkles. A lot.

Wow, I need some work on that one.

I’ll leave the second one for a blog of its own…

Deep, dark secret...

I’m using you.

Yes, it’s true.

Or, at the very least, it’s possible.

It’s been a long while since I’ve blogged, and though you might think you’ve suffered for not having your regular dose of Andi’s babblings, I’ve suffered more.

Turns out I’m still an external processer, and without my regular blogging-induced stop-and-process time… Well, I simply don’t process. Whoops.

I think journaling is a good way to keep yourself accountable in your walk—a good way of checking up on yourself to see if you’re acting on/growing from what God is/has been teaching you.

So, this whole journaling-for-the-whole-world-to-see thing really puts me out there. Each one of you can hold me accountable or press me about where I’m at.

And I think I’ve been missing that.

I’ve been missing…. using you? Hmm. Curious.