it's all kind of amazing.

In a few weeks, on February 8th, my husband and I celebrate six months of marriage.

It’s hard to believe that it’s been that long.

It seems like just yesterday that we were standing on the banks of the Puget Sound.

We were at “our spot.” Somehow, P had convinced me to leave our house and walk in the pouring Seattle rain down to the little driftwood alcove where we shared our first kiss. I remember standing on the bleached logs, a cup of coffee in my hand, looking out at the islands in the distance.

P asked me to turn around.

There he knelt, a ring box in his hand.

He spoke, smiling wide, a mixture of nervousness and anticipation etched on his face.

“You wanna?"

The moment was perfect, but not because it was over-the-top or expertly planned out. 

In fact, there had been a miscommunication in timing with the photographer that he had secretly hired, so P had to streeeeeeeetch out the breakfast that he had planned on the waterfront. Just one more cup of coffee, he said. It'll warm you up. And, obviously, no one had expected a torrential downpour on that late August morning. By the time that he knelt down on the rocky ground, we were both soaked to the core, our jeans drip-drip-dripping water into our shoes.

The moment was perfect, because it wasn’t.

The other day, in the midst of heavy Seattle rush hour traffic, I pressed “play" on a podcast from This American Life. In it, host Ira Glass tells the story of Andre and Luc, two young boys who were recently adopted from a remote orphanage in the Democratic Republic of Congo and were experiencing Christmas, and its myriad possibilities, for the first time.

In the background, you can hear them exclaiming as they look at each of the ornaments hanging on the family tree, “You’ve got to be kidding me, man!” 

“You’ve got to be kidding me, man!” Over and over.

Their mother shares that, with their new and evolving use of the english language, this exclamation is what they use when they are particularly excited about something. They shout it at the grocery store, at restaurants, and at the movie theater, at the sight of their first family photo and the first time they witnessed the warm glow of Christmas lights. For them, everything is magic, so believing that anything is possible at Christmastime is a natural and logical conclusion.

Post-interview, back in his studio, host Ira Glass reflects: “It’s all kind of amazing, if we let ourselves see it that way."

It’s all kind of amazing, if we let ourselves see it that way.

The most poignant moments in our lives are unplanned. They are unexpected bits of joy or comfort, spontaneous moments of euphoria or pleasure or pure contentedness. They look like every other moment but feel like so much more. The moments are perfect, because they aren't.

They are the moments when you wake to cool sunlight on your sheets and roll over to see your partner or pet sleeping peacefully beside you.

They are the mornings you spend curled up in your favorite chair, draped in a comfy blanket, a steaming cup of coffee and a good book in your hands.

They are date nights at home, just the two of you, focused solely on celebrating the simplicity and sacredness of togetherness.

A bite of delicious food. Luxuriating in the steam of a hot shower. The late-night phone call with your best friend. Easy laughter and long hugs. The moment you wake up and the one just as your head hits the pillow. 

Standing in a spot where we’ve stood a thousand times with a man that I’ve spent a thousand moments adoring, the rain pounding down as puddles form in our shoes, saying… Yes.

I am reminded of a quote from Albert Einstein: "There are only two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though everything is a miracle."

It’s all kind of amazing, if we let ourselves see it that way. 

Photo Credit: Zoe Rain Photography