I have come to learn that I am a past-oriented person. The way that I face the future is by reflecting on my past experiences and emotions. This blog is part reflection, part practice in thankfulness, and part of my grieving process… so that I can walk forward stronger. In January 2020, I complete a 30 Day Yoga Challenge titled “HOME” through Yoga with Adriene on YouTube. After the 2019 Christmas holiday (when Kelly came to visit me in China) our school commences for two weeks of classes before Lunar New Year holiday. On January 20, my roommate Grace, our friend Gloria, and I fly to Thailand for a planned two week holiday to visit Grace’s parents. There are whispers and rumors that a sickness has become an issue in western China. I think little of it. I meet an elephant. On January 29th, while still in Thailand, we receive news that our school decided to delay opening for two weeks due to virus outbreak in China. Classes are scheduled to resume online temporarily. Grace, Gloria, and I decide to extend our stay in Thailand for some fun and sunny weather. At the end of the month, after much deliberation and prayer through November and December, I send in my official resignation letter to ISQ. We are living in the village where Grace’s parents have agreed to take us in for an extended amount of time. The well runs out of water on more than one occasion and Thailand hits the start of dry season. School is delayed reopening for another two weeks. Grace, Gloria, and I are teaching online through Home-Based Learning from Mae Ai, Thailand. We adjust to the one hour time difference between Thailand and China while teaching. The news projects the virus is spreading and getting worse. I begin to have nightmares. I run 42km in 29 days. I begin applying for jobs and have interviews with schools in Fiji and Austria. On February 11-12, we travel to Chiangmai to renew my soon-to-expire tourist visa for another 30 days. School is delayed another four weeks. I make plans to return to China anyways as rumors spread that the Thai immigration office is turning away requests for renewed visas. I continue with job interviews in South Korea, England, Bolivia, and Fiji. I run 32km in 31 days. China closes its borders to all foreign countries. I cry a lot. After 55 days in Thailand, I decide that I will return to America to wait until I can return to China. I say what I think are temporary goodbyes to my roommate Grace and friend Gloria. I fly home with over 50 hours of travel time from Thailand to Atlanta, Georgia through Malaysia and Qatar. My friend Brittany picks me up in Atlanta and I feel strange. I am reunited with Benji and my family. I continue teaching online, but now with a twelve hour time difference. My classes run between 6:00 PM and 2:00 AM EST. All four Manning siblings unexpectedly end up back at home due to Coronavirus hitting the USA. At this time I am hopeful that I will get back to China before the end of the school year. I apply and audition for Sight & Sound Conservatory. I continue teaching online (resulting in poor sleep and many tears). Live classes, assemblies, parent/teacher conferences, and staff meetings take up hours of the day and night. I run 40km in 30 days. I begin meeting with a global counselor from Barnabas International. My brothers and I compete in Bradley James’s unofficial “Merlin” Quiz Night where we finish in the top ten of thousands of contestants. I am overwhelmed by the uncertainty of when I will get back to China and turn down all job offers from Fiji, South Korea, England, and Bolivia. I am still clinging to hope that I will get back to China before the end of the school year. I discover podcasts and begin listening to many in all my free time. I run 22 km in 30 days. It begins to dawn on me that I may not make it back to China before June, I choose to remain optimistic. I begin to video chat with friends who are still in China at 5:00 AM or midnight to talk them through packing up my apartment. It is a really difficult ordeal. I am still teaching online through the night. I attend the Odyssey Representative Meeting online… it is a very emotional encounter. I celebrate my 29th birthday with flowers and take-out from a Chinese Restaurant. I am still praying that I’ll get back to China before the end of the school year. I quit running due to stress and grief. In Qingdao, school resumes in person for those who are still in China. I am now teaching online to a class of students who are together without me. The borders do not reopen. Grades are due, goodbye videos made, final staff meetings and classes occupy more time. I watch the 2020 Graduation online. My friends finalize things being packed up at my house and classroom in China. I ball my eyes out through my “Exit Interview” with LDi. My items from China are shipped on June 17th. I think that I will never look at a teaching position again. I begin applying for local jobs. My counselor invites and encourages me to attend a debriefing conference in Oklahoma for expats and mission workers who have returned to America. I am blessed by sweet friends with the funds to pay to attend the conference. I complete my taxes. I have a follow-up conversation with the school in Fiji. They give me a 10 week extension to decide if I am interested in coming in 2021. I purchase a microphone and begin auditioning as an audiobook narrator on ACX. I apply to a local dog camp and boarding facility. I fly out to Tulsa, OK on July 27 for the Interlude Conference. I attend the Interlude Debriefing Conference in Tulsa, OK. The time is healthy, but hard. I meet wonderful kingdom workers from all over. I reconnect with friends from Senegal while in Oklahoma City. I decide to register for a masters class for the fall in order to get my teaching certificate renewed. I am hired as an audiobook narrator for a junior author from Florida (his novel follows the journey of four air force pilots after the attack on Pearl Harbor). I interview and get hired at a local dog camp and boarding facility. My brother Nick transfers universities and leaves home. My sister Kelly begins graduate school to become a Physician Assistant in Pennsylvania. My brother Timmy moves out before starting his senior year of undergrad. I am the only kid at home. We celebrate Benji’s sixth adoption day! I temporarily dye my hair purple because that’s how I’m coping, haha. I pitch a new podcast idea to Kelly, who agrees to join me as co-host. I reconnect with some friends from university. Kelly and I begin recording a new podcast titled “Not A Lady: A Dr. Quinn, Medicine Woman Podcast”. The podcast discusses the famous 90s Western starring Jane Seymour. Kelly breaks down the medical practices in the show and I talk from a historical/literary perspective. I work full time at the dog camp and begin private pet-sitting jobs on the side. I record, edit, and produce 50+ hours in order to complete the audiobook. On September 18, Not A Lady Podcast launches on over eight different podcast streaming services. Two months later on September 26, I pick up four suitcases from Black Mountain, North Carolina containing my items from China. I visit with some China friends nearby. I begin a recertification course online and continue working at the dog camp. Over a week after picking up items from China, I finally open them and go through them. I am thankful, but also heartbroken to find a number of sentimental and priceless items are missing/were lost. I am hired by a local pet sitting company. Not A Lady Podcast publishes five episodes. Benji and I dress up together for October 31 for the first time in three years. I complete the eight week recertification course with 100% average. Not A Lady Podcast reaches over 1,000 plays across eight episodes. I continue to work at the dog camp and pet sit on the side. I begin going through all the items I have had in storage for the past three years. Considering my anguish and the strain of getting my things from China/losing precious items, I decide I want to get rid of a lot. Kelly comes home for Thanksgiving as a surprise and our family spends the holiday together. I officially sign a three year contract with a new school beginning in January 2021. I begin the visa process for my new job. I turn in my two weeks’ notice at the dog camp. I will continue pet-sitting privately until my departure date. Our family is blessed to be able to spend our first Christmas in our home together in years. I write this blog because I find it hard to look to the future without processing the past. The truth is that I (and everyone else) will likely be processing and grieving 2020 for the rest of my life. Don’t get me wrong, I am thankful for the many unexpected blessings I experienced this year. I just find it hard to celebrate things like “I spent a whole year with my parents and Benji!” when I realize that it came at the cost of saying goodbye to friends, animals, and students in China. It’s just how my brain and emotions work. It is not right or wrong, it’s just me. I’ve learned a lot about myself this year. Some good, some really bad, most of it just hard. I know everyone will have their own 2020 story. I’m still unsure about how to talk about mine. I haven’t written a blog in five months. I’ve found it extremely difficult to talk about myself and my emotions (especially when I consider the thought that no one wants to add my struggle to their own). This blog—of writing out my year—is not the most poetic, profound, or pivotal thing I’ve ever written… but I think it has helped me through another step in my grieving process. A step in the right direction. At one point this year, I told my mom, “I have nothing to show for 2020.” But reading the above, I can see that is just not true. I have A LOT to show for 2020, some really beautiful and great surprises… and yes, many really emotional and difficult hurts and losses. I do have a confession for you, though. When school ended in June 2020, I told my family that I wanted to quit teaching. I never wanted to be an educator ever again. After all that happened with administration in 2018-2019 and the cutting of the theatre program at ISQ in 2019, I felt rejected and unappreciated. Then, with teaching online in the Spring of 2020, I felt exhausted, overworked, and abandoned. Teaching online striped away everything I love about being a teacher (namely relationships and time with others). I’ve been very lonely living in North Carolina with my parents. My family moved here after I had already moved out at 18, so I have no friends here (and it’s really hard to make friends amidst a pandemic, y’all). For the past nine months, I’ve seen maybe 20 people total outside my immediate family. I recognize that many people share this experience. All my lowest points in the last two years led to me want to be finished with teaching forever. Yet, the Lord worked on my heart – as He always does. He gave me some hard physical labor at the dog camp and some sweet puppy loving to remind me how much I love teaching. I love my students. I love the opportunity to create. I love my passion for theatre as a tool to transform. I love my heart for Third Culture Kids and the ministry of the performing arts. I love every trial that the Lord walked with me through while in China. It drew me closer to Him and helped me know myself all the more. In 2012, I was thrown off a horse in an accident that should have taken my life (read about the accident HERE). It took about seven months before I was able to get back on a horse (full "Wounded Series"). 2020 feels appallingly like the emotional equivalent of that accident. I’m ready and excited to mount up and use my gifts, talents, and passions to serve the Lord again. Thank you to those of you who prayed me through this year. And thank you for your patience and encouragement as I struggled to find my footing amidst the chaos of all that’s happened this year. The Lord is good and I remember that most of the time. So, the final thing to do would be to announce where I’m going next. I put it in another blog, and you can read all about it HERE. Merry Christmas & Happy New Year!
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This is the story of my first speeding ticket. My first and ONLY speeding ticket I should add, before anyone goes thinking I’m a bad driver. I mean, I might have been a bad driver then, but don’t believe anything my brothers tell you. I’m much better now. Seriously! Anyways, in between my sophomore and junior year of university, I spent my summer working at a Christian girls camp in Black Mountain, North Carolina. My summer days were celebrated outside in the warm, Carolina sun, teaching hunt seat riding lessons to campers ages five through sixteen and eating far more baked oatmeal that is good for any one person. It was a wonderful summer, but I’d be lying if I didn’t tell you that it was one of the hardest summers of my life. But this isn’t a story about my camp experience; we’ll have to save that story for another time. This is a story about a speeding ticket and how it helped me discover the true meaning of the word redemption. Camp ran late into August and my last day at camp was literally two days before my fall semester of 2012 was scheduled to begin. This fact left me a little stressed towards the end of the season. It struck me at the end that I had to go to my parents, rest and recuperate from a long sweaty summer, pack and prep to return to university, and then rush off to start my junior year in the course of less than 48 hours! The horror! After an exhausting summer of dramatic ups and downs, high emotions and spiritual discovery, I found myself shuffling through the final day of camp overwhelmed with saying goodbyes to people and preparing myself for the chaos of the next two days. I shoved everything I had with me into the back of my car, hugged my friends, and started my two hour drive to my parents’ home in Charlotte, North Carolina. Camp had thrown a “Goodbye Party” on the last night and I found myself leaving for the journey around 9PM. As I drove through the empty, mountain roads under the cover of night, I found myself desperate to get to my parents as soon as possible. I was beginning to panic as my to-do list overflowed through my silent drive. So, I began speeding. I was doing over 75 miles per hour on windy mountain roads with a speed limit of 55. It was harmless, I told myself. No one was on these roads on a weeknight and I really didn’t want to be out driving so late. I was probably 45 minutes into my race through the zigzagging mountains when I heard a “WHOOP, WHOOP!” and saw glaring neon blue lights spiraling in my rearview mirror. OH. LORD. NO, I begged in my mind. This had never happened before. This can’t be happening! What am I going to do? What are my parents going to say? I jumped on the brakes and pulled over to the shoulder. The road was empty and the night sky painted the cliffsides pitch black. I remember staring at the corroded silver guardrail in the light of my headlights, shaking. My heart was thrumming in my chest at an unsteady beat. My hands were fumbling for my registration papers in the cluttered passenger’s side glove compartment. Suddenly, the golden beam of a flashlight shone in my window. I couldn’t see the policeman’s face, but I rolled my window down a little bit, voice shaking, and muttered a shuddery, “Hello.” I honestly don’t remember what the officer said. I do remember that after talking with him for a few seconds, I found myself sobbing explaining how I had two hours to drive home and I’d been at camp all summer and I was really tired and emotional, how I’d never been pulled over before and I really just was trying to get home as soon as possible. [Public service announcement: If you’re ever pulled over by a policeman for speeding… don’t cry. There’s a 10 out of 10 chance they’ll just give you the ticket if you cry.] The officer took my information and went back to his cruiser. I sat hiccupping through tears in my car. I was horrified. I was embarrassed. I was so angry at myself because I knew I had been speeding intentionally and it was all my fault. I was getting exactly what I deserved. I knew better than this. The officer returned and calmly informed me that, since I had a good record and it was my first time, he wouldn’t mark my speed at the full 75+ miles per hour I had been going (a speed that would have lost me my license right then and there). Instead he would mark the speed as a lesser, more reasonable speed, giving me a fine and three points on my Drivers’ license. He mentioned to me, “If you go to court, you can likely get the points removed and just pay the fine. Please drive safe.” A broken and tearful, “Yes, sir,” was choked out before I s l o w l y eased my car back onto the road. That drive remains probably the slowest, most careful drive I ever made in my life. You can imagine how I stewed for almost two hours, contemplating the consequences I must face over these truly deserving, but horrifying charges I had received. I wondered over and over, “What am I going to do?” I made it home and went to bed. In the morning, I broke the unbelievable news to my parents. I had prepared myself to face their ire with a conclusive plan of what I was going to do about the ticket. “I’m going to go to court,” I announced to my mother at the breakfast table. “Why?” My mother frowned at me. “You were speeding; you’re guilty,” she reminded me. “I have to do it, Mom,” a fervent need to be understood overwhelmed my explanation. “I need to feel what it’s like.” “What what’s like?” Mother questioned with annoyed incredulity. “What it’s like to be in court… and be told I’m guilty,” I explained. The conversation ended shortly after as my mother threw her hands up in the air, likely wondering how she ended up with such a stubborn, confusing daughter. Here’s the thing, I had this ‘vision’ of sorts about what my day in court would be like.
Yet, in this imaginary situation I create another scenario. In this first ‘real’ court room scene, I go into the room guilty and I will be forced to walk out of the room guilty. However, I think to myself that, as I exit that room I will imagine—yes, almost a dream within a dream—I imagine what it would have felt like if, at that moment, a man came rushing into the room, threw open the doors at the back of the audience, and cries out to the judge from the doorway. “I will accept the charges pressed upon this woman! I will take her guilt!” the man calls out. The man would be Jesus Christ. I wanted to go to court, so that I could experience guilt and condemnation in its most elevated setting. Then, in that moment, I wanted to be able to imagine how it would feel to have my guilt taken away by someone else. Not just anyone, but instead by the Son of God. I wanted to imagine what it would be like to be redeemed. I wanted to imagine in real time what it would feel like to be cleared of my debts, not because I deserved it, but simply because someone cared about me too much to let me remain guilty. Reading through this ‘vision’ now makes me seem a little bit like a crazy person, but I was confident in my reasons. I went to court almost two months after being pulled over… and it was nothing like what I had imagined. I stood in line in a tiny room scattered with a few individuals. There were no dramatic entrances. There was no judge sitting behind a throne-like desk. The line ended at a tiny white desk sitting in the corner of the empty room. There were no formal instructions or presentations. Just a short conversation where the clerk asked my name and the date of my ticketing. After a brief exchange, a paper was handed over for me to sign before I was swiftly directed out of the room to another woman behind another little desk who instructed me to pay my $280 cash fine. The whole experience was over in less than fifteen minutes. There was no thrilling or heart pounding exchange of guilt, no grand moments of decision, no attentive crowd listening to every word spoken. As I walked away, I realized I hadn’t even been given the option to contest or confirm my own guilt. The whole experience was rather anticlimactic. As I drove home that day, I took a great amount of time to think about my ideas of condemnation versus redemption. The result was the determination of the following statements. Redemption is not something I can earn.
Condemnation is not the end
I do not have the ability to redeem myself.
Accepting redemption is a surrendering of guilt.
I may have not gotten the dramatic day in court I imagined, but my speeding ticket provided me with some tangible perspective into the basis of my Christian faith.
I don’t need to wait around for moments to ‘imagine’ what my redemption would feel like. It is finished. Jesus already marched into the grandest courtroom in all the world, stood between a loving, but just judge, and a hateful, accusatory prosecutor and surrendered himself as the price for all MY sin, guilt and shame. I’m not waiting for my redemption. I have it. Now, I’m consistently working to live a life that reflects and emulates a girl who has long been the redeemed prize of a compassionate and loving Prince…speeding ticket and all. Romans 5:8 "but God shows his love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us." Here I am. The last chapter. The eve before my graduation from college. As I ponder this being the end tears spring to my eyes. Are the tears for fear of the future or loss of the present? I can’t quite tell. I have been through a lot on this last leg. My time completing my undergrad has been years of pain and turmoil in every form – physical, emotional, mental, and spiritual – and now we are at the end. For all the complaining I’ve ever done about college, I love my school. I love my professors. I love my friends. I love the strangers who have graced the pages of my life in this place. When I wonder about what I have learned the most during my time here… the first thing that comes to mind is learning about myself. Who am I? Why am I here? The answer to that I know for sure to be God’s glory. Does it all make complete sense to me? No, definitely not. There are more than a few experiences I’ve had in this place that I’m still not sure I’ll ever completely understand why they had to happen. But among the confusion are beautiful, breathtaking moments. And now, at the end, I hate letting go. Letting go of something you cherish always feels like losing a piece of yourself. The future is so unknown. The thought of the unknown is thrilling just as much as it is terrifying. I know God is always telling us not to be afraid of the unknown future, but I am afraid. I am afraid because while the future could lead to anything and everything good… I have the potential to mess it up. I suppose it’s a very good thing that the future is not dependent on me then, isn’t it? I hate letting go. As I watch myself type those words I’m reminded that if I never let go of anything, I’m preventing myself from having open hands to receive any of the other surprise blessings God has in store. Blessings that, in truth, are already waiting for me. A new job, students of my own, independence, a chance to make a difference in someone else’s life… who knows, maybe the love of my life (other than Jesus) is waiting for me on the other end of that stage. My mission, my global heart, is moving one step closer. I’m amending my previous statement. You don’t lose a part of yourself when you let go. In fact, only when I am willing to let go, am I able to take those people and places with me as part of me. I am so thankful for this place and these people. I have accomplished so much under the guidance and support of so many here. I was wrong. This needn’t be the last chapter. This is not the end. Instead, it’s just the end of one simple chapter. A chapter that will be followed by a much more exciting one full of new experiences and people. Don’t worry however; if I’ve learned anything from Gandalf the Grey, it’s that your favorite characters always come back around when the time is right. I was a very scared little girl when I came to this school. I have grown a lot since then. The girl that writes to you now realizes that she still has fear. However, instead of trembling in the presence of the unknown she rises to take it head on. She dares it to throw everything it has at her. She is much more confident in her front man than she was at the beginning. Jesus has got her back 100%, even when she does not realize He does. The sun has set on this day… but that does not mean it won’t be back right on schedule tomorrow morning. Tomorrow it will be bigger, brighter, another day older and wiser, facing the same unknown as me. No regrets for this girl. You have lived. There is nothing to be lost in living. My childhood hero Peter Pan changed his heart’s cry at the end of his story. He said, “To live, will be an awfully big adventure.” It was not, fighting a pirate will be an awfully big adventure… or saving an Indian princess, or befriending a mermaid... none of that. Simply LIVING is the awfully big adventure. All the specifics come into the adventure after the living part. Live, girl. Live to glorify the one who gave you life and is your reason to live. He will never lead you astray. His adventure is bigger and better than you could possibly imagine. Growth comes with the unexpected, change keeps you moving forward, and love, God’s love, is never ending. Cheers my friends! Here’s to letting go and letting God lead me on my next big adventure! “Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.” ~ John 14:27 “It is strange how we hold on to the pieces of the past while we wait for our futures.” I have traveled around the world. I've lived in many places, many houses, many rooms... gone through many different phases through the years. Now, as an adult, I find myself searching more and more for the few things in my life that have been constant through the years. My grandmother has moved only once since I was born, but there are so many objects in her home that have remained the same through my 22 years of life. These objects are some of the few things that give me a sense of 'coming home' whenever I visit her, there is a security, a familiarity. They are a rare thing... something unchanging. And I absolutely love that. Here are an assortment of trinkets that I've grown up knowing and loving as "Things In My Grandmother's House".
Embarrassing moments, everyone has them. They are the unfortunate tales of our unintentional failures and mistakes that we take with us wherever we go. Though there are many experiences that could qualify as my "Most Embarrassing Moment" there is this one story I still hold in top regards. I've decided to share my humiliation in hopes it will bring a laugh to you today. Not surprising my story takes place in the 7th grade. Middle school seems to be the optimal place for these kind of stories. My family had been back from Africa for about a year and I was still the naive and clueless missionary kid from Africa. Glasses, braces, and way too many pimples, I was the nerdy girl who liked to read books and had never grown out of her "I love horses" phase. I don't remember many of my classes, with the exception of my 7th grade Social Studies class with Mrs. Yowler. I love history and, therefore, Mrs. Yowler was one of my favorite teachers. Our class had Social Studies everyday after lunch. Another reason I liked Mrs. Yowler's class was because of a boy (of course). I'm going to change his name in case any of my middle or high school friends read this (though they may figure out who it is anyways). His name, let's say, was, I need a cool name. Hmmm... Alfonso? Yeah, his name was Alfonso. Haha. He was pretty much the cutest boy in school. Tall, dark, and handsome(well, as tall, dark, and handsome as any gangly 12 year old could be) and he came from an Italian family. He loved soccer, and was really good at it. He and his friends would play soccer every recess, and though we wouldn't admit it, most of us girls would watch. Everybody wanted to be his friend. He always had jokes in class, and he was just SO cool. I was still at that age (I may have never grown out of it. lol) where you were required to act like you didn't care about boys, when really, you totally did. Alfonso was that boy for me. He sat right in front of me in Social Studies. Yet another reason I soooo looked forward to the class. I would get to class early and wait patiently until he would come in after lunch and recess. On this one particular day, he came into class covered in sweat. His hair was soaked, his face was all red, and he was breathing like Darth Vader in fast forward. He must have been playing a pretty intense game at recess, I reasoned. He sat down in front of me and smiled, you know the smile, the one that makes girls' brains stop working? Yeah, that happened, and nerdy little glasses and brace-faced Sarah said the first thing that came to her mind when she saw the sweaty boy. "Wow," she observed. "You're hot." -_- YOU SAID THAT?!!!? Yes, yes I did. It was meant totally innocently, obviously from his state of being he must have been hot... temperature-wise. Like sweaty and gross hot. Of course, the dark and handsome Alfonso did not catch on to my innocent meaning. He smiled enthusiastically before saying loudly. "Thanks Sarah!" A number of girls turned to glare at me. To make matters worse Alfonso turned to the guy sitting next to him, slapped him on the shoulder, and said enthusiastically, "Hey Ben, did you hear that?! Sarah thinks I'm hot." I flushed as red as a tomato playing golf with the sun. (No, I don't know what that means.) I just remember the feeling of blood traveling to my face. Embarrassment to the four hundredth power. I remember wanting to bury myself in a whole as I stammered, "That is not what I--... I mean... you know... you're sweaty-- and hot... I mean your temperature is... hot..." Oh, guys I tried to save myself, but it just went downhill. By then practically the whole class was giggling at my fumble. Meanwhile, Alfonso just kept smiling at me with this large white grin of hotness. Yeah, I don't know which one it was there either. I was mortified. I'm pretty sure I didn't speak in class for the entire rest of the week. I mean, I had just told the really cute guy who sits in front of me, that I might possibly "like", not "like-like" mind you, just the middle school definition of "like", that he was hot. I was going to die. In American culture, telling someone they are "hot", apparently was a big deal. It was without a doubt, the most humiliatingly horrifying moment of my middle school career. To this day, I've never forgotten it. Haha. Moral of the story? Think before you speak... (and if possible avoid all eye contact with cute boys. lol) But really, in the end Alfonso and I went our separate ways. Five years later we graduated together from high school and I haven't seen him since.... but I'll always remember the day I told him he was hot. It makes me laugh now, as I hope it made you laugh. Embarrassing moments happen, when they happen it feels like the end of the world. But really, they just make for hilarious stories later in life. Thanks Alfonso. ;) And Sarah said, “God has made laughter for me;
everyone who hears will laugh over me.” Genesis 21:6 On Tuesday, I received my first marriage proposal.
Honestly, it's probably going to be the best marriage proposal I ever get (if not the only one, haha). Seriously, though it was so stinking cute. I babysit regularly for a family and they have two little boys (and a little one on the way). Their children are the sweetest most well behaved little guys I have ever met. I look forward to seeing them every chance I get. On Tuesday, their four year old, Matthew and I were outside playing in his sandbox and we were talking. Matthew saw my purity ring on my left hand and he asked me if I was married. I told him no, that my ring meant that I was waiting to find someone to marry (simple version lol). Matthew said, "You can marry me!" I replied, "That's nice of you Matthew, but I think I'm a little too old for you." Matthew didn't seemed phased at all by this answer. He assuredly informed me, "That's okay, when I grow up then you can marry me." I had to laugh as I told him, "Well, how about, when you're older if you still want to get married, we'll talk. Sound like a plan?" Matthew in his adorableness confidently looked at me and said, "Sounds like a plan." Seriously people. It doesn't get much cuter then that. Sitting outside in a plastic turtle shaped children's sandbox. I'd be content to remember that as my first marriage proposal for the rest of my life. Children are such a blessing, in a few simple words they can make you feel like the most amazing and beautiful person in the world. And someday, I tell you, a long time from now, little red-headed Matthew is going to make some wonderful girl a spectacular husband. :) |
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