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May 22, 2013

hello everyone!

if you’re reading this, welcome! it is a joy and blessing to be on this journey, and to have you along.

a brief context: in february 2013, i agreed to spend the rest of my life with john foo. this was a surprise to many and to myself; i hadn’t thought i’d be settling down this early, or even be in a romantic relationship- i figured that was something for my 30s.

but when he asked, i agreed because we both understand our lives as sinners saved by grace, and redeemed by Christ. our ultimate hope is in Him who came to seek the lost, defeated death and now offers life without end. we know our thirst and satisfaction are fulfilled in Jesus, and him alone. Life with God is the only roller coaster worth getting on, and John is a gift to be sharing this life with, in a pilgrimage bound for ups and downs- and in a sure hope.

as i chronicle the remaining 9 months to the altar, i look forward to a meaningful blast. the first 3 were eventful enough in pessimistic doubts and fears, but i’ve since wrestled these through and am ready for the next part of the journey.

thinking about what will be covered gives me rather a buzz: i foresee reflections on topics raised by premarital counselling, our relationship, etc. i know reflection isn’t a naturally buzzy word, but i suppose i’m weird like that.

welcome, once again!

Frederick Buechner

May 11, 2013

“We weren’t born yesterday. We are from Ireland, Afganistan, the world. But we are also from somewhere else. We are from Oz, from Looking Glass Land, from Narnia, and from Middle Earth.

If with part of ourselves, we are men and women of the world and share the sad unbeliefs of the world, with a deeper part still, the part where our best dreams come from, it is as if we were indeed born yesterday, because we are also all of us children still. No matter how forgotten and neglected, there is a child in all of us who is not just willing to believe in the possibility that maybe fairy tales are true after all but who is to some degree in touch with that truth. You see the rain falling against the sun, light on light, and the child comes to life for a moment. There is a fragrance in the air, a certain passage of a song, an old photograph falling out from the pages of a book, the sound of somebody’s voice in the hall that makes your heart leap and fills your eyes with tears.

Who can say when or how it will be that something easters up out of the dimness to remind us of a time before we were born and after we will die? The child in us lives in a world where nothing is too familiar or unpromising to open up into the world where a path unwinds before our feet into a deep wood, and when that happens, neither the world we live in nor the world that lives in us can ever entirely be home again any more than it was home for Dorothy in the end either because in the Oz books that follow The Wizard, she keeps coming back again and again to Oz, because Oz, not Kansas, is where her heart is, and the wizard turns out to be not a humbug but the greatest of all wizards after all.”

Originally published inĀ Telling the Truth