My friend Lynn (Note: post also contains super awesome announcement)

To understand Lynn Stack, you have to watch her cook.

She doesn’t just make a breakfast burrito, or macaroni and cheese or lasagna.

No.

Lynn makes a breakfast burrito filled with happiness and vegetables I can’t even name. And she make macaroni and cheese that tastes like heaven and noodles and has bubbly cheesy goodness on the top. And, her lasagna is more awesome than sauce.

Lynn doesn’t worry about measuring, or specific ingredients, or cook times on some recipe card. She just has faith that everything will come together and that she’ll have the right things in her fridge at any given moment to make the best dinner ever.

She’s always right.

That’s how she looks at people too.

She never judges them, or worries that something isn’t exactly the way it should be. She just knows that between God and their core, everything you need to make the best person ever is already right in front of you.

That’s how she’s always looked at me.

I’ve never seen an ounce of doubt in her eyes. She let me help with our church youth group before she even knew my last name. She had faith in my lessons even before I had faith in them myself. And she’s pushed me to do things (like plan a mission trip) that I wouldn’t have leaped into before I met her.

Which is why leaving her is going to suck so bad.

I recently was offered and accepted a job as a paid part-time youth leader at a church in Bolingbrook. And I’m happier than I could ever be ever about it. The church is AMAZING, the position feels like a calling, and I’m excited to grow with God in this area of my life.

But, because the job is kind of far, I’m planning to move in with my best friend ever April in Naperville and then commute between the youth leader job and my newspaper job in Crystal Lake. I know that Bolingbrook isn’t really THAT far from Woodstock, but I also know that I’m not going to get to see Lynn nearly as much as I’d like.

The irony is, of course, that without her faith in me, I never would have gotten the job in the first place. She wrote me a letter of recommendation, and prayed for me and was nothing but “Congratulations” when she found out I’d accepted.

She tells me I’m going to do great things and change lives and be awesome.

And because she believes it, I kind of believe it too.

Thank you for that Lynn.

Seriously. Thank. You.

(And don’t feel weird about sending me on my way with some macaroni and cheese).

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Live to love another day

I keep listening to Jesse’s heartbeat.

It’s my favorite way to soak in the idea of being with him in person.

I like to lay on his chest when we watch movies and just commit the sound to memory. Sometimes, he’ll ask me about something that just happened, and I don’t have it in me to tell him that is heartbeat is just so much more interesting that the action movie he picked.

I  love it so much.

I want to listen to everyday.

It’s a sound you can’t hear over the phone, or read in a Facebook message or feel in a picture.

It’s my favorite sound.

Probably because Jesse is my favorite boy.

He’s got these amazing brown eyes that could convince to jump off a cliff with him as long he was holding my hand. He thinks my blog is funny. He lets me pick the movie every time. He calls me baby and I don’t even mind it.  He’s sweet, and thoughtful and just all around pretty freaking great.

And, he’s a Marine.

We’ve met while he’s on leave, and I’ve fallen for him harder than a girl should fall for a Marine only home on leave. But sometimes, we don’t get to pick those things. We don’t get to give the universe or God or whatever a list of specifics we’d like in our next love. We just meet them and see their eyes and hear their heartbeat and we fall.

Hard.

He’s leaving to go back to the Marines this weekend, and I’m not sure what the future holds for us.

I’m OK with that. I’m trying to be OK with that.

Actually, mostly it just sucks.

A couple days ago I couldn’t pretend anymore that he wasn’t leaving, and I realized that I do care that he’ll be gone, and then, suddenly I was in a bank parking lot on a Sunday night crying and freaking out and wondering why the crap love is so hard.

For now though, at least, I’m comforting myself with the knowledge that no matter what happens, I will forever have in my memory box the sound of his heartbeat.

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Attn: Swimsuit makers of the world

Attn: Swimsuit makers of the world:

Why the crap are there no one-piece bathing suits in all the racks of all the stores on all the earth?

WHY?

I need a one-piece for my church mission trip. (Church people tend to have, you know, standards and whatnot, you understand).

This shouldn’t be hard.

This should be fun. I lost a crapton of weight, and I should LOVE bathing suit shopping this year.

But no. NO! Instead, I am left to scour the racks of the old-women areas trying to find something that doesn’t look like it’s actually a dress made to cover every area of my body ever.

I don’t want a dress.

I just want something cute in ONE PIECE!

CUTE!

ONE!

PIECE!

Ug.

My sister was feeling my desperation so much that she suggested I sew two pieces together. Is that what this has come to? IS IT?

I’m at my wits end here people.

(un)love,

Crystal

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