A couple of links

As you may or may not have heard, I'm getting married in less than six weeks. Cathy and I have been  busy getting things prepared and organized for our big day. If you'd like to take a look at our wedding website, feel free to go to http://www.theknot.com/ourwedding/CatherineBlose&AdamCopeland.

Also, Cathy has started writing with examiner.com. If you're interested in reading about zombies, please support her by checking out and/or subscribing to her features at http://www.examiner.com/x-37030-Charlottesville-Zombie-Examiner.

Friday Night Cooking

Everyday Italian is a great lunchtime show. I usually catch some of it when I'm home on my lunch break, whether it's Giada's main dish or one of the side items or dishes for the episode. A few weeks ago, I caught an episode that featured this simple and easy recipe for pasta with spinach and cherry tomatoes. I bought some spinach and cherry tomatoes the next time I was at grocery store, made a slight change (in the type of pasta) and had a nice meal.

Well, tonight I decided to do a little improvising with the recipe, partly because my first go at it wasn't as tasty as I would have liked. So, here are my ingredients:

3 handfuls of bowtie pasta
1/3 bag of baby spinach
9 cherry tomatoes, halved
1 clove of garlic, minced
2 tablespoons of diced purple onion (I cut off a piece of an onion I've been using during the past week)
4-6 ounces of chicken (I had some leftover chicken from a rotisserie which I think was that amount)
1/3 carrot, sliced in rounds then in half
1/2 zucchini squash, sliced to look like carrot sticks
Some shredded Italian cheese, sprinkled to taste
Salt and pepper handy
And some olive oil

First, I boiled water and salted it before throwing in the pasta. (Apparently this adds some flavor to the pasta.) I set my timer for 9 minutes and prepared the onion and garlic. I poured enough olive oil into my small skillet to coat it and have a bit more sloshing around on medium heat. I then put in the garlic and onion to start browning, as well as to provide a nice aroma as I prepared the other veggies. I let them cook for a little over two minutes, then added the carrots and zucchini squash pieces. (The carrots needed the extra cooking time; I probably could have waited a bit for the squash.)

Next came the spinach, placed over the other veggies to wilt down. I had forgotten about the tomatoes, so I quickly cut them in half and threw them on top of the spinach to make sure they got enough heat and cook time. After adding salt and pepper to the veggies, here's what it looked like:

From here, I shredded the chicken I had by hand, added it, and continued stirring; I sprinkled a little more salt and pepper as well. After a couple of minutes, the pasta was ready. I spooned it into the skillet, allowing some of the water to get in too. The pasta sat on top of the veggies for almost a minute before I kept stirring. Finally, I sprinkled a little cheese on top of it all and let lowered the heat to low. I let the liquid cook down a bit more and tried stirring the spinach out of its clumps for a few additional minutes, at which point I served myself 2/3 of what was in the skillet while the rest remained on stove on low. After it was in the bowl, I added more shredded cheese and it turned out quite presentable:

I think the addition of the extra vegetables made a big difference, as did the chicken. It was heartier than my first attempt and more tasty. Maybe it was because I was a lot hungrier than I'd thought, but it was the best pasta I've made. If I wasn't so full, I'd make it again right now.

Acts 3

I don't leap out of bed too much any more; actually, I don't know if I really ever have. I've jumped a lot, but not as much recently as I did in high school or college. Even my jumpshots occur on a much more haphazard frequency. Leaping, though, is a bit different than jumping. Leaping implies a sense of freedom and exuberance, an act that propels the leapee as high into the air as the individual's heart can send the body. It flirts with unpredictability and innocence; it schemes with surprise and excitement. Joy is paired with jumping strictly based on alliteration; she really belongs to leaping.

When beauty happens, when beauty is seen, when beauty walks, we leap. Though pressed down by routine and daily absences of beauty, we wait at beauty's gate longing for a glimpse, hoping for an encounter, which sometimes arrives, though often delayed. Our timing for beauty, that which transforms our hope into reality, typically ticks much faster than her appearing. When she does appear, after our hearts have waited in patience for her, we leap. Beyond ourselves, outside ourselves. Our hearts throw themselves through their ribbed cages to a freedom of expression; our feet and legs and arms hold no grip on land or air for stability in this leap.

This talk of beauty and leaping emerges from healing. A dedicated group of friends bring one of their own each day to a gate called Beautiful. Daily, a man crippled from birth asks of those going to worship for something, maybe anything. How long since birth this had been occurring is unknown, but it had been long enough that his hope was terribly conflicted. On one hand, he was brought everyday and asked everyday; on the other, he didn't seem to expect today to be any different from yesterday. He longed for beauty at the so-named gate, yet found little to speak of its reality.

So as Peter and John approached, it may have been a half-hearted question for money that was sent their way. Apparently, the man didn't even look up towards them; it took Peter asking him to "Look at us!" to truly grab his attention. Maybe they had some food, possibly some change before going to the temple courts. Maybe they wanted to taunt him as others may have done. Instead, these men spoke of what they did not have with a joy that stirred his crippled bones. They gave what they had, which was more than he could handle. With outstretched hands, the apostles helped him up; with strengthened ankles and legs, the man began to jump and run. And leap.

He followed Peter and John to the courts, acting as if he were running around the bases after just hitting a game-winning home run. Peter and John walked; this man leaped. Beside them. Around them. Shouting and praising, overflowing with excitement. Finally, something beautiful had found him. Finally, something beautiful filled his crippled body. Finally, after day after day after day of emptiness and uselessness, something gave him life.

The power of Christ is a life-giving power, a force not of brutish proportions but of a transforming nature that takes the broken and crippled things in our lives and heals them to their rightful place of purpose, function, and beauty. Our ankles, feet, and legs were designed to make us walk and run and jump and leap; we were made to sprint and chase and juke and dodge. We're awed by the speed of a Usain Bolt; we're held breathless by the ease of flight in a Lebron James dunk; we're amazed at the churning legs of Mark Ingram or Julio Jones breaking tackles on a football field. We hold those moments as moments of wonder and fascination because they achieve the beauty instilled within.

So maybe our mornings don't see too many leaps out of bed. Maybe the drudgery of getting out of bed isn't filled with the beauty of a leap. But everyday, by getting up and getting going, we persistently and faithfully make it to our beautiful gates, whether they be jobs or families or circumstances or hearts. And we wait for a beauty not yet seen, for a hand still to be extended, for a word filled with truth. We sit, longing to be fully healed, hoping to be fully transformed. In this waiting, in this patience -- this is faith. This is belief. To hope for the not yet seen; to believe in the not yet here. To be ready for the leap of joy.

The Proposal

I drove down to Newport, Tennessee on Friday, October 30th with bubbling anticipation. A couple of weekends before, I had purchased an engagement ring and the day had finally arrived. Being apart since August had put some strain on our relationship, mostly because we weren't able to see each other as frequently as we had for the first ten months of our relationship, which was pretty much every day. Fortunately, Cathy and I had been able to steal a couple of weekends together, most of those coming in October. Halloween weekend was the cap to a month that allowed us three out of five weekends together.

It also marked an anniversary for us: the previous year, we'd spent quite a bit of time together during the week leading up to Halloween shopping for costumes. I'd asked her to go with me on a couple of excursions looking for Joker attire and make-up; she'd borrowed a white dress shirt of mine for one of her Holly Golightly get-ups -- yes, plural. Cathy actually wore at least three costumes last year, possibly four; she loves Halloweeen, with its candy, costuming, and supernatural aura. We both went to a friend's party, separately though. And I was late for it due to my make-up taking a bit longer to apply than anticipated; I also had to leave that party a bit early to go to another party. There was definite interest between us, but we hadn't formally began dating. I don't think she was too pleased that I was late and left early to that party, and due to my costume, I was a bit creepy. But, looking back, I see that week as when we first started doing things just the two of us.

Knowing how much she loved this holiday (and that she'd found a conference the weekend of that dealt with the supernatural), I knew it would be an ideal and special time for a certain question to be asked of her. We had looked at rings late in the summer and a couple of times in the fall, giving me a good idea of what she wanted, though she always graciously said that more than anything she'd be excited with any ring I offered her. I knew she would love to get engaged on Halloween, but did my best to make her think that it was probably more likely to come around Thanksgiving or Christmas, which I think she bought. (However, there was some anticipation, I believe, on her part every time we saw each other since I got to Harrisonburg, so the element of surprise wasn't in full effect.)

Cathy had arrived on Thursday to Newport, which is a little more than 45 minutes northeast of Knoxville, about halfway between Tuscaloosa and Harrisonburg. She spoke during the opening session of the conference that evening (and did a great job I hear). I left work on Friday afternoon and arrived to the conference center late that evening with a ring burning a hole in my bag. I'd considered popping the question at 12:01 am, but only for a short time; I wanted it to be just the two of us. So the conference finished up Saturday morning; I got to have breakfast with her, but decided not to sit in on the final session. I'd hoped to do a little hiking and picture-taking, but there was a consistent drizzle the whole morning that kept me in the lobby, which turned out to be fine.

We got on the road a little after 11 and drove 45 minutes west to Pigeon Forge. It wasn't ideal to take separate cars, but we eventually got to be together, so we dealt with it. We arrived at the Apple Barn at noon and enjoyed a great lunch. I'd been there a couple of times before and have never left disappointed or wanting any more food. Their apple fritters with apple butter are illegal in eight states they're so good. After lunch, we walked over to the winery and enjoyed a tasting of their selections. That was a bit nostalgic since she and I (along with our friend Natalie) had taken a wine-tasting class in the spring; we pulled out our sharp, biting, and complimentary critiques and opinions of the bouquets, colors, and tastes of the wines, depending on what we thought. It was fun to get to do that again.

After our tastings, we picked up the directions to the cabin for the night. Yeah, a remote cabin in the woods away from the city on Halloween night. However, there weren't any problems other than a couple of oncoming cars that forced us to the side of the too-narrow roads on the way up the mountain. After we got there and unpacked the cars, Cathy gave me a couple of framed pictures of us, which gave me the opportunity to give her a gift.

Not knowing if there were going to be some hiking trails around the cabin, I had a couple of plans of action depending on what was there. We had talked about getting some pictures of us with the fall foliage, so I brought my camera and tripod. I'd hoped to set it up for a couple of shots, hit the record button instead of the timer, and record the proposal. Well, there weren't any hiking trails and it was raining, taking out Plan A. So, I decided I wouldn't try to do any recording, thinking that would bring about unnecessary suspicion.

I told her I had a gift or two for her too, so I handed her a card that I'd written. Knowing that she's a fast reader, I had part two ready as well. When she got finished reading the card, I started reading a  Sonnet 128 of Shakespeare's to her that I'd written down in a journal of mine. Then I went over to my suitcase and told her I had one more thing for her, which was really two.

First, I handed her a Martha Stewart bridal magazine. I'd picked it up for a couple of reasons. One, Cathy's joked about not being Martha Stewart, but will sometimes mention things that Martha's done or whatnot; also, I'm not a bridal magazine aficionado, so I grabbed it because it looked better than the other selections. The other reason was that Cathy had told me that she wasn't going to buy any of those magazines until she got a ring; even though she's been wanting to get started on the planning, she didn't want to jinx anything thing -- silly girl. She looked at it with a "Thanks, but I'm not really sure why this is the present you're giving me" look, which was perfect.

I then knelt on my right knee and held up the ring box that had been in my hand behind the magazine. She had noticed something else in my hand when I got the magazine, but wasn't sure what it was. In my head, I was going to say that no ring could equate to the love and affection I feel for her and that it was but an imperfect symbol of my love and appreciation for her, but it came out more like, "I love you very much and want you to know how very special you are to me." To which she adorably replied, "Is this really happening? Is this for real?" So, technically, I said yes before she did; then I asked her if she would marry me. Through a tear-filled smile, she blessed me with a "Yes."

We hugged and kissed. She tried on her ring and talked about how much she loved it. She cried a little more and I a couple of tears as well, though I don't think she saw. I was a bit choked up, but full of happiness, excitement, and peace. We then decided to take some fake reenactment photos, fake because this wasn't exactly how it was done.

 

 

 

But it was a blast to take pictures together and soak-in that moment. We got on our phones and called our families; we sent out mass text messages; and Cathy kept looking at her ring.

We're not sure of the place or exact date, but think that most likely it will be in Alabama in mid-July. Hopefully, by the end of the year (at the latest) we'll have a place and date nailed down -- and pass that information along to you.

Thank you for your prayers, for your support and encouragement, for the conversations, for the messages, and for your love. If you haven't met Cathy yet, I greatly look forward to introducing her to you. If you're reading this and you're one of Cathy's family or friends that I haven't met yet, I look forward to doing so.  We're so excited and can't wait to start our life together.