Sacramental Perks

Having been married for, like, five whole minutes, (156 days, to be totally precise) I feel I am now entitled to express my expert opinion and let you know that I think marriage is really great. Really, really.

There are just so many perks and cool features.

One cool feature, for instance, would be the app that used to count down for our wedding day and has now been reliably counting up since we got married. That's how I know I've enjoyed 156 days of marital bliss. (Wait, did you actually think I counted? Dude, pregnant over here. As if.)

An example of the many perks would be the sacramental graces that get "floooooowin' down to you and meeeee." Personally I think my husband got a lot of very interesting ones. Most notably: the Grace of Inexhaustible Good Humor and the Grace of Never-Ending Gentle Patience.

They're not listed in the Bible or anything but I really think that those are A Thing. 

I mean, he has always had a fantastic sense of humor and been incredibly patient with me, but seriously, you should see this guy in action since his little wifey went all crazy-pregnant-lady a few months ago. 

I shall elaborate for you: last night, it was getting late, and decisions had to be made, so decisions started getting made.

1. I decided Peanut and I needed to go to sleep.

2. Alex decided he wasn't ready to go to sleep, and was going to watch a movie.

3. I decided I couldn't go to sleep if he wasn't in the same room as me. Peanut agreed with this conclusion.

4. We decided he would watch his movie on the laptop with headphones next to me while I went to sleep. Peanut was again satisfied with this conclusion.

(In case you're wondering who translates for Peanut, that would be me. Definitely me.)

All these things being agreed upon, we started getting settled. Per usual, he took way less time than I did. After all, Peanut and I have a lot of pillows to arrange. Things like that take time. After he had gotten comfortable, he asked with no small amount of amusement: 

"Are you building your pillow palace?"

Me, haughtily: "I'm just arranging them."

Alex, grinning: "Okay."

Alex turns back to his movie but is interrupted two seconds later by:

Me, shrill with anxiety: "You have That One Pillow!"

Alex, alarmed: "What pillow?!?"

Me, getting hysterical: "That One Pillow!! I have to have That One Pillow! The extra-firm pillow with the special pillowcase on it that your mom gave me! I NEED THAT ONE."

Alex, instantly: "I am SO sorry, I didn't know, here you go! Here's your pillow, honey."

Me, starting to feel bad but still super serious about That One Pillow: "Here, you can have this pillow. And this pillow. Just not That Pillow. I need That One."

Alex, totally calm and gentle, taking the other pillows: "Okay. Thank you, honey. Those are great."

Alex turns back to his movie but is interrupted two minutes later by:

Me, poking his shoulder.

Alex removes his headphones, and looks at me with concern.

"What's wrong?"

Me, aware that this is a ridiculous reason to interrupt a movie but somehow unable to stop myself from being consumed with concern over it: "Uhm, is it okay with you if I eat the dinner leftovers for breakfast, or did you want to have some tomorrow?"

Now, that is a dumb question. But I was convinced I had a good reason. It has happened in the past that he has asked about leftovers, which it turned out that I had already eaten for breakfast. He's always super kind about it, and I always feel bad anyway. "I should have asked, I should have asked," so this time, I thought, I would ask. If he wanted them OF COURSE I would not eat them first thing in the morning like the ravenous pregnant woman I wake up being.

Once I had poked his shoulder though, I thought, "Oh, shoot - this is so dumb. I hate being interrupted, and here I am interrupting him to ask about dumb leftovers..."

All kinds of things could have happened at this moment. The poor man's pillow had been snatched, his movie kept getting interrupted for silly reasons...he could have rolled his eyes or something, you know? Something sad could have happened.

He just smiled at me. This really great smile like there was nothing more perfect I could have done in that moment, or like he'd never imagined anything more wonderful than his crazy wife poking his shoulder during a movie to ask about leftovers.

"No, sweetheart. You can have them. Thank you for checking."

And suddenly, everything was okay. I smiled back, and fell right to sleep.

That's the amazing thing about my husband.

Not that he has an inexhaustible good humor and never-ending patience, which he does, and which are also amazing things, but that my husband helps me feel like I could actually be the kind of wife I really want to be. Not just the kind that gets hysterical over pillows and can't sleep because of leftovers or has a little anxiety attack over poking someone's shoulder or gets crushed by someone rolling their eyes when, really, my execution is pretty bad and I deserve an eye-roll but I did mean well...Don't get me wrong, I am well aware I am that kind of wife. But he doesn't just see me that way. He sees me as the kind of wife who, after all, does mean well. The kind of wife who wants to consider her husband first. The kind of wife who is trying. 

I am positive that's a sacramental grace because I'm positive that's how God sees us. He doesn't just see our little anxiety attacks and moments where we spazz out and moments where our execution is really, really pretty bad. He sees our efforts, and in seeing them, helps us be more next time. Marriage keeps teaching me that. It's definitely a perk of this wonderful sacrament.

As I said before, there's a lot of those perks: this morning I woke up right before the sun was rising. I was sitting in our bed when it rose, in my pillow palace with my sweet warm husband in our room surrounded by all the beautiful sacred art our friends and family have given us, with my hot honey tea and everything glowing in this incredible orange-gold light. I thought about that sweet smile this precious man had given me the night before and all I could think was, "This is beautiful, Lord. This is really, really beautiful."

Crumb Confusion (Or: A possibly frightening glimpse inside a Pregnant Brain)

There are crumbs in my bed. 

It's really annoying. I keep trying to figure out why there are crumbs. I suspect I have started looking like a psycho lady springing up at random moments swatting at random spots in the pile of white cotton fluff that decks my bed while shrieking, "WHERE ARE THEY COMING FROM?" 

I do not recall previously experiencing this phenomena. I was tempted to blame it on my husband (okay, I might actually have gone ahead and blamed it on my husband) because, hey, there were no crumbs before, and there was no husband before. Obviously. Husband. 

However, the husband WAS present a fairly good amount of time before the crumbs, so I suspected my deduction in this case to be...faulty.

I think I figured it out this morning, though. 

I woke up at 4:30 this morning...wait, I WAS AWAKE at 4:30 this morning, I don't know what time I woke up, I just know I was already awake when the alarm went off for my aforementioned, long-suffering husband. I felt positively ill. That is not an unusual occurence for the mornings in my recent experience. The tricky part is finding a solution to this Illness Which Does NOT Confine Itself to Mornings, HA. The trickiness of the solution lies in the fact that it varies based on the day/hour/current energy level/previous night's dinner/food sources available/possible surrounding smells, etc. This morning, part of the solution was to eat Triscuits. 

In bed.

You know what Triscuits have? 

Wait for it...

Crumbs.

Like, a lot, you guys.

I challenge you to eat an entire Triscuit. You can't. You really just can't, because Triscuits are so full of crumbs (as if they were, like, genetically engineered that way, in case that's a thing) you literally cannot get the entire thing in its entirety into your digestive system no matter how careful you are especially not if you are half asleep and possibly ill and around you there are SO MANY SMELLS OF ALL THE THINGS EVER and probably if you eat a Triscuit at 4:30AM or any other hour of o'dark'thirty or even during the day probably there will be crumbs around you in all the places ESPECIALLY...

In. My. bed.

I therefore conclude conclusively that there are crumbs in my bed because I've been eating in my sleep.

I really don't have much proof for that, since I don't actually remember it or have it on Candid Camera (creepy) or anything like that, but in all honesty it makes more sense than the husband theory.

I was going to write an amusing and helpful post about "Things Which Help You Not Be Sick If You Are Pregnant, At Least For Me They Work" but this Triscuit business distracted me, so...Priorities. 

Maybe later. 

If I remember.

Oooh, look! TRISCUITS.

I love Triscuits. Triscuits are Great. They are a Thing Which Help You Not Be Sick If You Are Pregnant, At Least For Me They Work, maybe they would for you. If you're pregnant. Which, maybe you are, I have like twelve pregnant friends right now who might be reading this. I have a list of those things. Things Which Help You Not Be Sick, not my twelve pregnant friends. I have a list of them too. I love lists. I should write a post about that sometime. The Not Sick Things, not the friends. Or the lists...or maybe the friends.

Maybe later.

Perfect Love: an Announcement

It's funny how things turn out. 

As in, when things turn out pretty much exactly NOT the way you anticipated.

For example, when we got married in July, my sweet husband was starting work less than a week later, so we didn't go on a big honeymoon trip. We planned to go a few months later when he got a long school break. 

We planned our big 5-day-getaway to Colorado, to see mountains and feel cold and take hikes and cuddle up in a little cabin far from civilization and...you know, be honeymoon-y.

Well, we did see mountains. We did feel cold. And there was one night in the cabin, so that much went as planned.

However, instead of hiking, we took a trip to the ER (yep, the Emergency Room kind of ER) in an ambulance (okay, I was in the ambulance, Alex had to drive our car) and another trip to a health center and spent a lot more time on the phone with our precious families than anyone on a honeymoon would ever expect to.

So, our honeymoon didn't exactly go the way we planned.

To explain why, I have to let you know there's something else that won't be going as planned:

the blog post where I officially tell all of you that my amazing husband and I are parents.

Baby Hanson was supposed to get an uber-cutesie blog post with pictures of Mommy & Daddy (me and Alex) doing cute baby-announcement things (I had only vague ideas about this, I'm not really sure what kind of pictures, that just seemd right) and all my siblings would be so relieved because they could FINALLY TALK ABOUT IT ON FACEBOOK and, and, and...and you get the idea.

Now, before we go further, I want to let you know: our sweet baby is still okay. Baby Hanson, or Peanut, as we affectionately refer to our tiniest family member, is okay. We had a real scare, and maybe there will be more. However, of the many things I have discovered about myself and my husband during the past week, it's that no matter how long we have our sweet baby with us, we are determined that we will do our best to love him or her more every day. 

We'd also like to humbly invite all of you to do the same.

Actually, I want to beg you: please love our baby.

See, I have thought about this long and hard. We told our families right away as soon as we were pregnant, and we told them pretty quickly that they could spread the word as much as they wanted. I know many people wait to announce their pregnancies, and I do understand all the reasons they decide that will be what works best for them. What Alex and I decided to do isn't meant as a judgement or commmentary on what any other new parents decide to do.

However, I would like to explain why we decided not to wait to let people know about Peanut before the big 12-week-mark. 

It's pretty simple, really: the thing I talked about more than any other when I was doing pro-life work was that what we needed was love. We needed to love people. Loving people is the only way to make any kind of mark or difference or offer any kind of help. How many times did I tell people, "Even if a mom chooses not to love her baby, or to accept our love for her, WE can love her and we can love her baby. Even if a baby dies, you will have offered that baby love." 

I can't do any less for my own baby.

No matter what happens to my baby - whether my baby lives 12 weeks, or 24 weeks, or 24 months, or 24 years, or 100 years...my baby deserves to be loved.

That's actually why my baby exists: to be loved. And to love. 

Or, as the Baltimore Catechism phrases it: "To know, love, and serve God in this life, and be happy with Him in the next."

We hope with all our hearts that our baby will live long enough for us to have the greatest joy of our lives: teaching this sweet new soul to know, love, and serve God. And I trust that regardless of how many weeks or days or months or years we get a chance to do that first part, God will take care of the second part. I trust God has an eternal plan for our baby, and I trust that eternal plan is Love. 

So, we will love our baby. 

And, since you know about our baby now, you can love our baby too. I know that may be a lot to ask, because maybe something will happen, and if it does, that love will hurt. I think, in the end though, it will have hurt more not to love.

Thinking for a few hours that our baby was dying, amazingly, through God's mercy, made us love our baby more. 

It's hard not to be afraid.

It is so hard. 

But, I think, there will always be something to be afraid of - maybe we'll have a miscarriage. Maybe we'll have a stillbirth. Maybe we'll have an illness or a car accident or a cancer or, or, or, or...

Or maybe not. 

It's a lot of maybes, and it makes my head spin and my heart ache sometimes. But, "perfect love casts out fear." And I don't want our tiny person inside of me surrounded by fear. I want our baby surrounded by love. Love, and prayers. That's why we're letting everybody know about our sweet little Hanson. We need your prayers. We need your love.

So, I am more than grateful.

I am grateful for the man, Aaron, who came running at that gas station in Colorado Springs to call 911 for us, who stayed there with us and told us he knew our pain and our fear, that his wife had miscarried and his heart was with us. I am grateful that man was not afraid to open his heart. I am grateful that Aaron was ready to offer love.

I am grateful for my precious midwife, Joi, who dropped everything to come to the phone and talk with me while I waited for help. I am grateful she told me everything that might happen in the ambulance and ER, so that I would know what to expect, because doctors and hospitals scare me. They always have. Joi offered me calm. Joi reminded me to breathe. Joi prayed over me and asked God that every person who met us that day would offer us compassion. And you know what? They did. I am grateful that Joi has the kind of heart that treats each mommy and baby she takes care of as if they are the only mommy and baby she has to take care of. I am so grateful she is not afraid to reach out to me, I am so grateful that when I talk to her or see her that she is so generous with her love.

I am grateful for the firetruck paramedic, Lisa, who came and knelt by me while we waited for the amblance, who was gentle and did her best to console me, who offered to ride in the ambulance with me because the EMS paramedics were both guys and she somehow read my mind that I didn't want to ride with just guys, because I was worried about that right then. I am grateful she held my hand and was not afraid to be present to one more stranger she was helping that day. I am grateful that Lisa was ready to offer love.

I am grateful for the doctor in the ER who was actually completely kind and not at all arrogant or stand-offish or condescending like I am ALWAYS terrified a doctor will be. I am grateful he did an ultrasound and turned the screen so we could see our baby's little arms and legs swimming around, bouncing and jumping like I used to see other people's babies doing, though our baby is the prettiest. And I am grateful that doctor took the time to tell us what he thought might be happening, explaining everything really clearly. I am grateful he told us about his wife, and how the same thing happened to her three times, and all three of their children were born safely. I am grateful when he talked about our baby he SAID "baby," and not "fetus" or "viable pregnancy" or something else cold or detached. I am grateful he didn't rush, I am grateful that he was ready to share about the people he loved.

I am grateful for Emily, our ER nurse. I am grateful for the warm blankets, and the gentle words, and for the way she celebrated when we found out our baby was doing okay. I am grateful she was not afraid to come close, I am grateful she was generous enough to offer our baby love.

I'm grateful for our families, who held us up in prayers and gentle words and loving counsel and offers of help. I am grateful they have not been afraid to love our baby. I am grateful that when our baby's life was threatened, they immediately loved our baby more.

I am grateful for my sweet, precious, perfect husband. I cannot even say how much. I am not a cryer, but when I think over everything he has done this past week, I cannot stop weeping. There is not one night I have not lay awake thinking how grateful I am. There is not one thing he could have done more perfectly. There is no one who could have loved me better. I am grateful he has not been afraid: of my weakness, my pain, my fear, my tears...I am more than grateful that he conquers every one of my prickly thorns and terror-built walls and wins my heart again and again...I am beyond grateful that he is so brave and steadfast and that he LOVES.

I am grateful that for a while, I will be able to carry around the sweet child of this precious man. I am grateful that he makes me strong enough to surround our baby with love. I am grateful our baby's life is filled with listening to the sound of his voice saying how very, very much he loves that baby. I am grateful our baby is still here.

I am grateful, grateful, grateful.

And I think that must be because of love. 

Arabian Nights & Cutie Pies

I have a weakness for food movies and Indian music, so I kind of had to go see "The Hundred-Foot Journey." My sweet husband induldged and took me...it was't quite as foodie as I was hoping but since there was Indian pop music and there were no trashy scenes, it turned out well. In addition, I realized I needed Marguerite's wardrobe:

and head-scarf collection:

All in all, it was a productive movie-going experience.

Afterwards, my genius hubby said, "Well, now I guess we should go eat Indian food!"

Except, we don't know where Indian food is and we left the food-looker-up device (my phone) at home. So, we decided Mediterranean was also ideal and went to hit up our spot, Pasha's. My amazing mother-in-law discovered this place and she's turned us into fans. Even better, it's right next door to this market called Ali Baba's. I needed to go to Ali Baba's because this:

Behold, my roadmap to San Antonio. I was actually going to buy a map, but then I found this and thought, hey, I have GPS, I don't know how to get anywhere, I just need to know where to go! I needed a food guide and Alex needed a poisonous snake guide, we found both at our giant H-E-B. Clearly, our priorities are well-organized. And this thing has proven itself incredibly reliable. Ali Baba's was listed as a place to hit up. Except, once I saw Ali Baba's I was no way going alone. 

The foodie movie was the instigator for the together-trip to Ali Baba's. And it was no disappointment. Coconut oil and Himalayan pink salt were SO cheap, plus we found THIS:

I know you are as green as It is with jealousy that we found this incredible Thing, although you may be wondering, like I was when my husband excitedly exclaimed that we MUST get It, what exactly IT is.

Well, I will tell you.

Actually, the Ali Baba's cashier will tell both of us: it is an Indian Bitter Melon. And, once I googled it upon arriving home, it turned out that "Indian Bitter Melon" did in fact bring up other objects resembling this bumpy verdant object. Apparently you soak it and saute it, and you absolutely must de-seed it, although whether or not you skin it seems to be up for debate. We shall see what happens when I face the thing in armed culinary combat.

Besides Indian Bitter Melon, we also foooouuuuund...TURKISH DELIGHT.

Narnia fans, rejoice. Don't worry, there was no White Witch circling the Turkish Delight section, so having selected a box of assorted sweets in safety we made plans to eat them and read some "Arabian Nights" upon returning home from dinner, because my husband just comes up with ideas like that at the slightest provocation. So, we bought the Turkish Delight and the Himalyan pink salt and the Indian Bitter Melon and we did NOT buy the yogurt soda (whatever that is) because...it was refrigerated and we did not have a cooler and we were going to dinner before home. Otherwise, my husband would have bought a whole liter.

Pasha's was a great choice because they were actually serving the yogurt drink I had just talked him out of buying. (He feels we need to go back to Ali Baba's for a liter, in case you're considering a yogurt soda spree for yourself.) Also, we had this funny little waitress who was very sweet, and who thought we were "just so cute" she brought us a free dessert. 

No, really, we got free dessert for being cute. Look:

She said it was called mango cheesecake, but I told Alex it was really a Cutie Pie. 

He thought it was funny.

We did read some "Arabian Nights," but since we fell asleep at home before we got to the Turkish Delight, he announced that he needed to bring me breakfast in bed this morning. (I know, I know...such a stud.) Having lived in Italy for so long he's a big believer in eating meals in courses, so my first course came in looking like this:

Tea. In a teacup. With Turkish Delight.

Such a Cutie Pie.

7 Quick Takes - Life in Marriedland

Join the fun at Jennifer's....

                                                           1. 

I observe that my last post was July 16th, and as today is merely the 14th this technically means it hasn't been a whole entire month. I feel so much better about myself. Taking a month off to get married seems completely justifiable, I think. And now here we are, married and re-located and plugging away at our little married life and having, just, buckets of fun together. As my husband (!!!!) likes to repeat every so often: "Marriage is so great...Why isn't everybody doing this?"

He's a charmer, that one.

                                                           2. 

My husband's (!!!!!) first day at his new job was exactly six days after our wedding, so when his new co-workers started finding this out, the favorite question became, "So, how long is/did/will the honeymoon last?"

The answer: INDEFINITELY. As we have yet to announce the end of it to ourselves, it appears to still be going on. Also, my wedding countdown app apparently became a marriage count-up app and it now informs us that we have been married 19 days, 19 hours, and 22 minutes as of this particular minute...so there's really just no telling how long we can drag out the honeymoon thing. I'll keep you posted on this.

                                                           3. 

Having grown up in Corpus Christi and loving that city with the whole section of my heart which appropriately belonged to city-love, it took me (hang on, I need to count...okay) roughly 14 years to make peace with living in Houston and convince myself that I did not utterly hate and, in fact, actually did not really mind living in Houston. 

Not so with San Antonio. I've always liked visiting here, was excited to move here, and the longer I am here, the more I love it. Flat out love it. I never could bring myself to say I loved Houston, though there were certainly very many loveable peeps there. San Antonio and I have really hit it off. It's so chill with itself. Houston always feels like it's trying to "BE SOMETHING." San Antonio just is. So, that's def more my style, plus it has more trees, less humidity, cool little farmer's market-y places, aaaaaand

                                                           4. 

H. E. Freakin' B. All over the freakin' place. I have joked that in Corpus Christi, you could drive any direction and find a Whataburger in under 10 minutes. In Houston, you could drive any direction and find a Starbucks in under 10. Well, in San Antonio...H-E-B. 

This is not a complaint.

I am an H-E-B fangirl. Really. In fact, I needed to hit up Wal-Mart the other day for some thread and I passed TWO H-E-Bs TO GET THERE. I think this was a rookie mistake...the biggest H-E-B in Texas is also the closest to our little honeymooner nest and I think since I found zipties there the other day in a big ol' manly tool aisle, there probably is some little girly crafty aisle where I might have bought my thread. I could also buy a flatscreen TV, a BBQ pit, a bean bag chair and get an eyebrow wax inside that same H-E-B, if I had a mind to do it. Next time I need to fix a button for my husband (!!!!) I will look for my thread there. H-E-B and I are besties, yo.

                                                           5. 

I-10 and I, not so much. It hates me. No, really. When I used to visit my friend here I would get lost ev-uh-ry single time. Fortunately for myself, I find I can navigate 1604 fairly well and all life's essentials (church, H-E-B, two bookstores, and a Hobby Lobby) are easy peasy to get to from it and so I just don't get on 10. My husband (!!!!!!) drives 10 for us. Although I did get on it the other day ALONE and I did not get lost or wreck the car or die so it was a good trip.

                                                           6. 

I am having such a good time being a housewife I can't help thinking probably everyone is just dying to see my cute little homey things, because I personally may or may not be swooning over them from time to time. So, I will satisfy the curiosity I'm convinced you must have and show you...(drumrolll please)...The Garden. BEHOLD:

There is also a hanging flowerpot with cutesie little yelllow flowers AND a teenie little rosebush which I have not yet killed. In addition to these botanical wonders, I have major plans in development to turn this magnificent thing:

(which my husband [!!!!!] acquired for me) into a sort of hanging/wall garden thing which will surely rival those of ancient Babylon. Will post pictures when this is accomplished. I'm sure you can't wait.

                                                           7. 

So, I made a pie. Two, actually, but the first one was important because, well, it was the first. The Inaugural Hanson Pie, as we called it. It was banana cream pie because Bountiful Baskets sent us five bananas last week and that is a lot of bananas. We got seven bananas this week, so...we'll see what becomes of those. Anyway, here is the Inaugural Hanson Pie. Please ignore the dishes surrounding and notice instead the H carved by my husband (!!!!) in the near-center of the pie:

It tasted good too, by the way. Though, the crust was determined not to leave its comfort zone in the pie plate and clung to that familiar place of residence with nearly ever fiber of its stubborn being. We eventually convinced it we had intended it for bigger and better things and ATE ALL OF IT. Worry not, we had help. There's a funny story about that - maybe sometime I will tell you how I accidentally invited a total stranger over. Then we can all laugh about that particular "Lucille Ball Moment" of mine, as my husband (!!!!) calls such and similar moments, which are rather more than infrequent, truth be told.

Four Years in Pictures

On March 8th, 2010, I had my first day as a Programs Coordinator at the Houston Coalition for Life.

On July 9th, 2014, I had my last day.

A lot happens in four years.

At moments like this I like to fall back on "a picture's worth a thousand words." Because, really, who can describe four years of ministry in one blog post?

In addition, I was asked not long ago what exactly it was I did at HCL.

Good question. 

Now that it's been a week since my last day, I also keep getting asked if I "miss my job."

Well, not exactly. I still have a job (getting married without becoming cRaZy) and I like that job and it keeps me pre-tay busy. I also don't miss trying really hard to think about work and to NOT think about wedding stuff 30 hours a week. It's much easier to just think about wedding stuff.

However, HCL was a huge part of my life. My dad jokingly said once that for Dorothy, there were two seasons: 40 Days for Life, and 40 DAYS FOR LIFE IS COMING.

Jokingly he said this. But, also not.

So, instead of twenty-eight thousand words, I inflict upon you merely 28 pictures.

Plus subtitles. 

Maybe twenty-eight thousand words after all.

----------------------------------

I started at the Coalition on the Monday of a Benefit Dinner week. If you've never helped with a dinner for several hundred people I can't explain this to you. If you have, then you don't need me to explain it to you. At that dinner, our Executive Director Christine announced we'd be putting a mobile crisis pregnancy  center on the road. 

Then, a few months later, they put ME on the road as part of a team to help check out a bus they thought might be a good fit for the project.

Actually, they put me in the air:

Yep, that's a six-seater.

Yep, I loved it.

Every. Single. Second.

To this day I prefer tiny planes to big ones. Oh boy, do I prefer them. I had a great time and we bought the bus and it was an adventure and I love tiny airports and it was only the beginning.

• • •

The next trip I took was in September of that same year. This is my first picture with a famous pro-lifer, Father Frank Pavone. I wanted the picture, but I didn't. I wouldn't have been in it if Christine hadn't made me. I felt ridiculous, but waay deep down I knew I was really eternally grateful that she made me be in it because, really, Father Frank. I just have this hate/love/hate relationship with me-and-a-celebrity photos...I want to believe I don't care, but I do, but I don't.

There are tons of not-pictures of me with the pro-life celebrities I met. There are lots of people I got to work with whose names you might know, only there are lots of pictures I didn't get in. So...here is Father Frank and you can thank Christine because she did know best.

• • •

Christine, Suze, David Bereit, and moi.

I don't think I ever took another picture with him. "I have one with him, I'm good. It's recorded."

This was a fun night. I was still getting my feet wet with public speaking and it was only beginning to dawn on me how much I would come to LOVE it. I look at this picture and I feel like I was So. Young. 

Also, so inexperienced.

• • •

One of the first benefit dinners I went to...this one was for Texas Right to Life. So many dinners...ssooooo maaaaany. Don't worry, my outfits did improve. I sense your relief.

• • •

A benefit dinner. This one for Life Advocates. Look how long my hair was...and see? Better outfit...borrowed from my sweet co-worker who couldn't go.

• • •

You don't see me, but I'm there. What you DO see is Eduardo Verastagui earnestly trying to pray the Rosary. Shortly after this picture was taken he was mobbed by adoring fans. This is one of the not-pictures of me and a celebrity. My co-worker and I were in charge of the "Green Room" where he was supposed to be hidden all day, except people who were supposed to be keeping people out kept bringing people in. It was awful. I've never actually seen women fawn over someone before, but they were doing that to him. It gave a whole new level of horror to my aversion towards photos with celebrities. I guess I'm just too stuck up.

He's a nice guy though, that Eduardo.

• • •

A benefit dinner! Again! For Brazos Valley Coalition for Life. They always had such great speakers. This one is with our bus nurse and her husband. She's basically a famous pro-lifer. Tons of girls in Houston know her. One famous person I never minded being in a picture with. :)

• • •

A dinner, but not exactly a benefit...this was when Cardinal Burke came. That was actually pretty awesome. I got to help quite a bit with this. We had this massive dinner called "A Night for Life" and then a big Mass and Rosary March to Planned Parenthood the next morning, called 

"A  Morning for Life." Good  times. Me and my Suze in this one.

* * *

Me & Suze again. This time less glamorous...we were washing the bus. We called it "giving the baby a bath." We also referred to cleaning the septic tank as "changing the baby's diaper..."

Random pro-life humor.

* * *

Pretty sure this was my first time tabling, at Cafe Catholica...or maybe it was just my first time tabling alone. I forget who took the picture for me. This was the event where I met my "Booth Buddies," the ladies from the St. Vincent de Paul Society. We set up next to each other, and I had the best time running into them at different functions throughout the year. I saw them at my last Cafe Catholica the week I finished at HCL, and it was like getting the perfect farewell.

* * *

Tabling at AYC, or the Archdiocesan Youth Conference for those of you uninitiated into this experience of youthful frenzy. This particular AYC was just a few weeks before I left for World Youth Day in Madrid...and it should have been my warning that I wouldn't exactly be in major love with the crowds. Oh, well. It was a good experience, and I had a good time putting that backboard display together. Also I always loved their table covers better than any other event's table covers every single year. See the cool black?

* * *

SPAMARAMA.

No really, that's the right name. It stood for Students Proclaim Awesome Message About Repentance And Mercy Available.

Now they just call themselves Unique Student Ministries. 

Not quite as catchy, I feel.

It was like the non-Catholics' version of AYC, and just like AYC it was great to be there. This was actually the same week as AYC, right before I left for Madrid. Teenagers are so hungry to hear messages of chastity and defense of life...you'd be amazed.

* * * 

Right after I got back from Madrid, it was 40 Days for Life tiiiiiime. Literally, right after I got back.

So here I am, speaking at the 40DFL kick-off in Montgomery County. There actually IS a picture of me with famous people from that night, since we had about ten speakers they took a picture of us all together. I don't seem to know exactly where that one is, though. Oops.

P.S. Can you tell by my face I'd discovered I loved public speaking by this time? ;)

* * *

Sidewalk Counselor (SWC) Training Class. I did a boatload of these. This was a great picture actually because there were some really good ones in this batch. I loved my SWCs. I loved the classes. Even though I loved them and I loved training them, I used to get this weird exhausted feeling right before the classes, like I was coming down with something. Not nausea, just that worn-out pre-cold feeling. Then after the class, I always had this big adrenaline rush. I pretty much never felt nervous. Just exhausted. I guess that's a pragmatist melancholic's version of jiitters and a performance high.

* * *

I somehow became in charge of the invites and programs for our annual benefit dinner. The year before last, I got to put my sweet nephew's face on them. The neat thing about this was, right as I was working on it, my parents showed me the invites and programs from a pro-life benefit dinner they had done over two decades before...and my face was on them. Close to the same age as my nephew.

After that I added it to my speaker's bio and to several presentations that it was a reminder to me that I didn't want my nephews putting their children's faces on an invite for an organization that was trying to end abortion...I wanted abortion to be over well before these babies had their own babies.

* * *

Me on the first day of a 40 Days for Life campaign. I feel like this was Spring 2013. COLD. Wasn't that cold in 2014. And I'm pretty sure I actually asked that it be taken (weird for me) and voluntarily posted it on Facebook (normally Christine had to make me post pictures if I was in them) because I wanted to impress this dude Alex I had just met. Pretty sure about that.

Also, that is my very favorite pro-life sign evah. In case you can't read it, it says:

"I AM the Pro-Life Generation."

Best feature? Anybody of any age can hold it. :) In fact, I believe we had a series of pictures that day of several different prayer warriors holding it.

* * *

I look at this picture and can't help smiling. This was such a fun day. Texas Right to Life (TRTL) asked me to come to their office and give a presentation to their office staff about Abortion-Vulnerable Fathers. I had the super-funnest time. The research for that talk was fascinating, and the people I got to spend the afternoon with were...well, look at us. Don't we look like we're having fun?

* * *

Suze and I trekking to Austin in June of 2013. Some Democrat chick named Wendy Davis was supposedly gonna try and filibuster a great pro-life bill, and we heard they wanted pro-lifers in the State Capitol wearing blue. Christine let us take off for the hill(ish) country, and it was a fascinating experience. I remember saying something to the effect of, "Gosh, I wish I could have stayed longer."

Famous last words.

* * *

Many moons later...just kidding. I think my longest stretch in Austin was a week, but there was a lot of back and forth over the end of June and beginning of July. This has to be one of my all-time favorite experiences during my time at HCL. This picture is of my amazin' friend V (Veronica to the regular peeps) and I during the last mad week of getting that sucker passed. She was there because she's TRTL staff and she'd been working away on their legislative team in Austin for the whole session. Behind us you see a tiny part of the line that was snaking up and down several halls and stairways...people waiting to testify for the Senate committee hearing. I had already testified in the House committee hearing (there was actually a whole blog post about that) so I was happy to be let off the hook and be a free roamer covering the doings of the day. 

An amusing (to me) side story about V, TRTL, and me:

once right at the beginning of my HCL career, I had followed the example of my more experienced co-workers and written down an event with Texas Right to Life as "TRTL event".

On reviewing my calendar later, I spent a moment wondering why in the world I had a Turtle Event on my calendar, and what the heck a Turtle Event was. When I realized what I had done I had a good laugh and eventually ended up telling V. It became an inside joke for us, and when we'd correspond about 40 Days for Life we both referred to the time being covered by Texas Right to Life as "Turtle Day."

More random pro-life humor.

* * *

More TRTL staff and I. Same week, different day, more blue. I didn't want to wear blue for a while after that. And I could hardly wear orange, could I? But, after so much time surrounded by orange and blue, EVERYTHING began to look like a shade of either blue or orange. Green? Shade of blue. Red? Shade of orange. Purple? Mmmm...probably blue. Yellow? Most likely orange.

Eventually I recovered. Which is good, since I have an orange dress I love, and I don't mind admitting it however shallow it sounds.

* * * 

Another year tabling at Cafe Catholica, and I was fresh out of my Austin experience. I found out that evening how many Facebook peer creepers I had. Flattering in a weird way is how I decided to think of that.

The same evening at Cafe, with Theresa (who worked in another amazing pro-life group at the time, and since then became the perfect replacement for me at HCL) and V, about who you have already been told. We took a picture together because

1. We're cute, so why not? And

2. Because a friend of ours was writing an article about how three little homeschooled girls from Houston turned out to all become employees at three of Houston's biggest pro-life groups. We needed a picture to go with the article. Fun. :)

* * *

The Great Update.

No really, that was its name. It was a veddy fun event in which I re-trained and updated several sidewalk counselors. It was extra-special for me because my Daddy and some siblings went - the first time they'd ever been able to come to one of my big work presentations.

* * *

Alex took this picture, I believe. I'd helped plan our first HCL Walk for Life the year I was hired and every one since then. This was my last one - which I didn't know, and Alex did. So, I'm glad he took the picture. :)

* * *

There was one other moment that stood at to me as I was thinking about this, and I don't have a picture of it. There was a girl whose baby was saved because she came on the bus and talked to our Director and our Nurse instead of keeping her abortion appointment. I remembered seeing her, but I didn't feel like I had necessarily been part of her choosing life. After she had her baby, she came to our Benefit Dinner one year to speak to everybody about how she'd been helped, and she brought her baby.

I got to hold her baby.

I got to hold a baby who had been scheduled to die.

I realized many times over the past four years: whether or not I personally felt like I was part of something, it was more rewarding to me to make other people feel that they were a part of it. I'm not a super emotional or sentimental person about things like this, but one of the best things about my time at HCL was not just  being part of "saving babies," although of course that was incredible.

 No, one of the best things was being given the opportunity to give other people the opportunity to know that they could be part of saving babies, saving mothers, saving fathers, saving families.

Not just making a difference myself, but convincing other people they could too.

Will I miss that?

Always.

Stealing Smiles

A few years ago, I went to Washington D.C. with some friends to join the annual March for Life. My memory of that trip is sort of a blur of activity, but a few things stand out. Two of them:

1. COLD. So. Cold. But, hand and foot warmers are the bees' knees, you guys.

2. After one particularly late event, my friends and I found ourselves huddled in a burger shop somewhere deep within the metro/mall thingy that I can't remember the name of, sometime after midnight. 

Why is that relevant? Because out of the swarms of people I saw in those three days, I remember that waitress. And that waitress was C.R.A.N.K.Y. Her crankiness was making other people cranky. It didn't take long to notice some of the other tables being pretty rude in response to her rudeness, and vice versa. Not that anyone is just super peppy in the middle of the night, but really, it was getting kinda ugly. So I started being SUPER charming and nice, joking with her, thanking her, until eventually she would crack a smile every time she walked over to our table. People, it was practically a small miracle. I was so satisfied with myself over this success, I couldn't stop grinning, until one of my friends finally demanded, "What's so funny?" 

"Oh," I shrugged, smirking, "Just stealing smiles." 

Like my dad.

I don't know what he calls it, this thing he does, but in my head I call it "stealing smiles."

My Dad, he is a charmer. He's a real charmer. And as absolutely far back as I can remember, in all my advanced 25 years of life, he has done this thing. 

Waiters, waitresses, cashiers in Wal-Mart, the guy selling newspapers on the corner...my Dad sees them. He finds out their names and uses their names. He asks them how they are, and listens, He jokes with them until they cheer up. He thanks them for offering their service and tells them he appreciates them. He sees them. And, being seen, they change. 

They go from struggling through their day, feeling lonely, feeling invisible, to being known, even a little bit. 

When I was little, I thought it was like this magical thing that Dad did. He could steal smiles from even the most unwilling smiler.

Being older, I am positive, it IS like this magical thing Dad does. He can ALWAYS steal smiles from even the most unwilling smiler.

And I get a real kick out of trying to do it myself. I don't know anybody who does it like him, but I love trying. I've had conversations with my sisters, while we're out, and one of us does this, and we'll look at each other and say, "That's what Dad would have done!" 

Sometimes it doesn't work for us. I remember at least once where we shrugged on our way out of a store after an unsuccesful attempt at smile-snatching and said, "Well, I bet DAD could have gotten them to smile."

There's something very consoling about that: Dad could have made it better. Dad could fix it. Just knowing he could fix it practically fixes it. 

There are lots of things I love about my own Daddy. 

I love that he's practical. And I really do actually like this - I like that I can go to him with an emotional trainwreck of a situation and he will very calmly sort it out, and it will all make sense later on.

I love that he taught us to Take. Care. Of. Mom. If Mama ain't sittin' down, ain't nobody sittin' down. If Mama's still up working you better bet your as-yet-unspanked-bottom (Kidding! but also, not) should be up working to. When Mama says dinner is ready you better show respect for her hard work cooking and get your self to the table PRONTO. If Mama is doing laundry...wait, why is your Mama doing laundry?!? 

I love that.

I love that my Daddy taught us to be activists. And HOW to be activists. Some of my best lines when I teach other people how to sidewalk counsel come from my Dad: "It's good to have a sense of urgency. Just don't be frantic." (I'm not sure he even knows I got that from him, but I did. I definitely did.)

I love that he taught us how to be the kind of kids he wanted to have. I've had friends complain their parents pressured them into certain colleges or careers. My dad never pressured me into anything like that. He would just tell us it's not about whether you finish college or not - it's about trying to be ready and available to do what God is calling you to do.

There are lots of things I love about my Daddy. Stealing smiles is just one of my favorites.

The Yellow Phone

Alex likes to say things that seem totally obvious, except to me, until he explains and then I have about 3.7 minutes to think about them.

For example: while he was discussing with my mother something I had done, he finished up with, "It's just that red phone of hers!"

He had mentioned my having a red phone once or twice before. I thought it was weird. My phone isn't red. It's green. Actually, it's black, but the rubbery case thing is green. Really green. 

I made him explain to me what this red phone business was about. He said it was an expression that meant a person had a direct line to God, and God always answered it.

Sheesh, I thought, if I had known I supposedly had one of those I'd have used it loads more.

Alex kept mentioning it, so I kept thinking about it. I tend to think things to death, as it's been said. 

For another example: the blog name. Been thinking that To. Death. For a couple of months now. I knew that changing it was right, but what in the world was I going to change it to? I kept trying different stuff and the ideas just wouldn't stick. Praying about it lots, thinking about it lots, even googling "fun new blog names" or something like that. What can I say? I like thinking about things, until they settle just right into my brain.

So, when my beloved kept mentioning, as I said, this red phone business, eventually this happened in my head:

Well, if I did have a direct line, the phone wouldn't be red. I like red, but really? A red phone? That sounds like a perpetual emergency. Ain't nobody got time fo dat. Who wants to answer a phone that's always for an emergency? If God were going to give me a direct line, and always answer it, I'd want Him to be smiling when it rang at least some of the time. Goodness, if it were red and always an emergency maybe He'd be like, 'Oh, there goes that panicky red phone again. This kid..." So it can't be red. Since I supposedly have one I am totally going to start putting that to some serious use. I like this direct line to God business. That is just so cozy. But not a red phone. Eloise has a pink phone in the Plaza. But I don't want a pink phone. A really happy-looking phone would be...YELLOW.

Like a sunflower, yo. 

Of course we all have direct access to God, and of course we don't even have to wait for any phone to ring to know if He's listening or worry about whether He's going to go all smartphone on us and reject the call...but the mental image had an undeniably quirky appeal. 

I gots me a yellow phone, I thought grinning, and convinced a yellow phone had the capability of making God's heart grin, too, no matter how often I kept it ringing.

Maybe even because I kept it ringing.

And suddenly, the blog had its new name.

The Yellow Phone.

It expresses exactly the idea of what I was looking for: something joyful, something that just is. An open conversation with God. A chance to live in closeness with Him, to beat peacefully alongside His Heart as I learn to be the heart of the Alex Hanson home. 

A reminder to just be. 

So, the blog will be getting its little makeover soon. I've already designed the new header and I am SO excited about it...I can't wait to show you all! 

And you can think it's goofy all you want. I is what I is, and that's how it will be. ;)