Transitions.

When I was a kid, I remember watching my parents walk into the gas station (because debit cards weren't as common) to give the clerk cash and turn on the pump. I remember being so intimidated by this - it was like I had stage fright for the real world. I was too scared to ask anyone for anything. It went the same for drive thrus, too. I would watch my parents order, giving them my order - trusting them to convey this to the employee at the window.
Occasionally, my parents would make me give my own order. Or make me ask a clerk for something. I would dread it. My cheeks would get red. I'd quietly state my request, then look to my parents for help.

I think of me then - a little kid - and I look at myself now. If little me saw the life I led today, she'd wonder how I do it all. How I got there. Do you ever look back at yourself and wonder the same?
I guess the answer is, transitions. Life is a constant string of transitions from one stage to the next.

Some slow. Some put you on the spot, and force you to grow. Others happen without you really even noticing it. My life has transitioned to this point - gradually, all of these responsibilities have piled themselves around me, and I have had to adapt and assume the challenge, or fail. I remember all of the times I've had to grow. Crying at my kitchen sink Senior year of undergrad, questioning all of my life decisions. Stuck in a limbo where I didn't know where my life was going. Feeling all of the changes around me making me grow - but bending under the weight. Senior year was probably the pinnacle of forced growth for me - I was working 4 jobs at once, I had gotten in a traumatic car accident, bought another car, had that car die, and then bought another car - was going through a breakup - and I had been put on a waitlist for graduate school. I didn't know if I could do it. I was depressed. I remember scrolling through my newsfeed, and a bible verse from Phillippians showed up. "Do not be anxious," it said. I know my shortcomings: I get stressed too easily. I'm not the best communicator. But I know I can bounce back from anything: I guess that's a gift I can own up to. I'm determined to the bitter end. I'll play a chess game I know I'm losing and refuse to go down without a fight. Sometimes I need reminding of this - but when it comes, I'll roll with the punches, and I'll get back up again.
Atlanta was a transition, too. But all that time, God was helping me grow, piling on more responsibility and teaching me that I had a deep well of strength from which I could draw from.
I am who I am because life has never stopped changing and forcing me to grow.

It amazes me just how strong we as people are for doing that, because it's not just me - it's everyone. We all had to fight and fail and conquer and try to get to this point. And whether we are happy with ourselves or not, we face more and more responsibilities each and every day. New roles to play. New challenges. So much to do.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep,   

But I have promises to keep,   

And miles to go before I sleep,   

And miles to go before I sleep.

One of those new roles I am recently learning is that of a wife. And let me tell you: It's the sweetest, most wonderful role I think I've ever had to learn. People ask me a lot now, "So how do you like married life? Do you find it any different?"
And yes, of course, I do. In the obvious ways. We share a bank account now. My name is different. It still feels weird to say "Lacy Mason".
 I nag at my husband to do chores - and he keeps having to redo the dishwasher dishes because I load the dishes in wrong.

In some ways it doesn't feel different, because my husband was my best friend before, and the same applies to now. We still go on adventures, we hike, we cook together, we drink coffee. We do all the same things we did. But at night I get to call him husband, and that's the sweetest name of all. Being married to Kris just feels right. And I don't say that just in a gushy, newlywed way - I say that in a very honest one. Because life is hard. And life has been hard on all of us.

When Kris was transitioning from one job to another during our engagement, that was hard. I sometimes wondered some nights how on earth we were going to pay for a wedding, on top of furnishing our future home, one top of the normal, day to day expenses. When I get way too stressed out about not having adequate means to obtain Diabetes supplies, or school, that's hard. Diabetes is a big problem. And now it's not just my problem - it's Kris's problem, too. It's a problem he chose to assume when he married me. And I think that's pretty amazing.
We've both made slip ups, but we are there to pick each other up. It's true what "they" say - marriage isn't hard. It's life that makes it hard. But at the end of the day, we're there to face life together. It's amazing how marriage works - two people come together and willingly take on each other's problems as their own. I don't feel like a very selfless person at all. Deep down, I know I sin and I know my heart can be jealous and selfish indeed. But looking into the eyes of the man I chose to marry - the man whose accomplishments I share, whose troubles I share, whose life I share - I feel a bond with him. A selfless one. Because I will take his burdens on as my own and I will gladly face his - our - troubles - right by his side. Just as he will face mine.
It's been a whirlwind 7 weeks facing life with him, learning the new roles and responsibilities that being a wife entails. Transitioning. And it all feels different - but it feels just how I know it's supposed to feel. It feels right.