and this is why i love him.

cause he's an awesome photographer and will probably be rich and famous AND he makes me pretty.

haha. just kidding. kinda.

See that look in the last photo? Yea, that's about when he told me to look for the Kookaburra.

i cannot talk so i shall WRITE!

I know, crazy, I'm blogging. It seems I've been a bit sidetracked lately, what with GETTING ENGAGED and all. I apologize. I also have this strange throat sickness that left me unmotivated to do anything but lay in bed all day (literally. 14 hours.) and watch Veronica Mars. I am now on Season 3 and I [heart] Logan. (Don't tell Stephen.)

So yeah because of the throat sickness I lost my voice. I now have that sexy phlegmy man voice that made Phoebe a rock star.

Anyway, this whole getting engaged thing has been a roller coaster. I feel like a grown up, or at least that I 'm supposed to be a grown up. There are all of these new and terrifying questions. Like, I have a fancy ring on my finger for the first time ever - should I be getting manicures now too? And, apparently setting our wedding date also means we have set the consummation date - does this mean I have to go to the GYNO?!?

Ugh, growing up is scaaaarryy.

It's worse than ball pits.



And clowns.



(I know, right?!?)

Help.

But you know, there's also the fun and exciting part. I mean, I have a fancy ring on my finger, and hello, consummation here I come! But let's get real here kids. Why doesn't anyone ever talk about the scary parts too? I feel like I am the only bride-to-be ever who has ever been scared ever of getting married and growing up. I mean I love my fiancee. And I love my life. But is it ok to be scared? Or I guess what I'm really trying to say is, am I evil for seeing a scary side too?

dun dun duh duuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuhhh...

So this is what I did on Friday:

My sly little boyfriend took me on a surprise date to Central Park. He bought me some beautiful little daisies and brought his camera (cause he's a photographer and loves what he does). We frolicked around the park for a while and took photos and it was so fun.

Then we stopped at this little boat rental place and he rented a little row boat (!!!) so that we could paddle across the lake and be so cute (do you know what's coming yet? cause I sure didn't). He paddled us over to the big tree and then started making a big deal about all of the animals..."Hey Jess, look at that turtle way over there"..."Hey look at that Kookaburra up in that tree." I'm like "Where?!?"

I look down at Stephen and he is holding both of my hands and looking at me in a way he's never quite looked at me before. He starts telling me how much he loves me and that he wants to spend the rest of his life with me. And then he slips this guy on my left ring finger:

It is so pretty.

Oh yeah, I said yes.

p.s. Kookaburras only live in Australia.

I love you Stephen!!! Thanks for picking me!!!!

another post on being white.

I must share this little experience with you. A few days ago, my roommate and I walked up to 145th to get some fish and chips. (One more thing I love about Harlem - THE FOOD. There are fried things and sweet tea. It's like being back in the South.)

Anyway. We got our fried deliciousness and took it to a nearby park. We were sitting on a bench next to this black guy and a couple of black ladies. (It's important that they're black. Just wait.)

So I'm talking with the roomie, catching up on our day and such, when the guy next to us looks at us, then our food, then back to us, and says this:

"I didn't know white people ate fried food."


>insert immense internal laughter here<

"Well, yes sir, we do. Especially us white folks from the south."

Then (and this is the best part) the lady he was chatting with, completely appalled, says, "You can't talk to her like that. You're supposed to say 'Caucasian.' Leave the nice lady alone."

>insert even more laughter here<

"It's really ok," I assured her. "I know I'm white."

p.s. this is only temporary

The world and it's desires will pass away, but the man who does the will of God will live forever. -1 John 2:17

which basically means GET OVER IT.

Whew, I feel better now.

This is one of the first things about following Jesus that stuck with me. None of the things we have now (including our problems, hurts, wants, desires, etc) are coming with us when we die. In the big scheme of things, it doesn't hold a great deal of value. Of course, that means nothing to us now, when all we know is what we feel and see and hear and taste.

Part of me is so excited about leaving this place. Is it morbid to say that? I mean, I just can't wait to know what it feels like to not worry about whether or not I'm gonna marry the perfect guy or have the perfect house or wear the cutest clothes. But then again, how awesome would this life be right now if I didn't worry about that stuff anyway?

Maybe a little bit of heaven really is possible right here, right now.

Anyway, just thought I'd share. It kind of takes the pressure off when you realize that all of this will be gone soon, so why worry about it? All we were really made to do is 1) be together and 2) love. Nothing else really matters.

p.s.s. this blog template is also only temporary. i'm trying to make it more "me" so i want to do it from scratch. wasn't loving my face in the header, so i put this up for a bit. as soon as i find the time to create something interesting, i'll be sure to show you.

i'm not too worried about it though :)

Love,
Jessi

in a different place.

I moved on Thursday. (p.s. I'm totally over this whole moving thing. Twice in one year is bad for the soul methinks.)

Anyway, it has been a bit of an eye opener for me. I think I realized for the first time that I'm white. Is that weird? Maybe it's because I grew up in a small town in south Alabama and went to an all-white high school and mostly-white college, but I've never really been "white" before. Or at least, I've never really had to think about it.

I'm now living in a place where I am most definitely in the minority, and it's weird. I hate to say that, but it's true. I know that race doesn't matter in the big scheme of things - I mean, we all bleed red and all that, but there is still this unfamiliarity I have with other cultures and races that makes being in the minority a little strange for me. Is it ok for me to say that out loud?

I think I like it though. I think I need this. I think everyone needs to get out of their comfort zone every once in a while. You know why? Because maybe (as I think the case is here) your comfort zone might actually be hindering you from the kind of life you deserve to live.

God created a multicolored family for a reason. I think He wants to show me. I mean, why else would he bring me from Magnolia Springs, Alabama to Harlem? I intend to find out.

p.s. If God is taking you out of your comfort zone, I'd love to hear about it. It's way easier to do this when I have company :)

Love,
Jessi

i think that maybe i'm crazy.

I've been thinking a lot about my trip to Africa, trying to decide what exactly it meant to me. And somehow, I only came up with one incredibly surprising thing.

I am proud to be an American.

I know, I'm crazy. I go to Africa and I get all Lee Greenwood on you. But for all the things America stands for that I loathe (i.e. greed, selfishness, obesity, sloth - basically a majority of the 7 Deadly Sins), I truly am blessed to live here.

For one thing, I can have this blog and say whatever I want on it without the fear of someone hunting me down and cutting off my fingers. Seriously, some people don't have that "luxury". I can vote for whoever I want, again without fear of dismemberment. I can believe what I want, say what I want, learn what I want, do what I want, as long as it doesn't kill anybody.

And there are people who died to make that happen. There are people today still making tough choices to ensure that it stays that way. I don't always agree with those choices, but I have to believe that over all, whoever is in charge is doing the right thing, and that ultimately the Lord is in control. And that He put me in the United States of America for a reason.

Why I realized this in Kenya is a little difficult to explain. Obviously, the stark contrast to our freedoms here was a bit overwhelming. I get pissed here if my water smells too much of the chemicals that make it clean. Kenyan children walk up to 20 miles a day to get semi-clean-ish water. You think unemployment here is bad? Try 40% in Kenya. And violence? There are between 250,000-400,000 internally displaced people STILL living in tents in the Rift Valley after the election in 2007. (By the way, that range means they really have NO IDEA how many are out there.)

I never have to worry about that. But what I do have to worry about is why I don't have to worry about it. Is there a reason the good Lord (who really is good, by the way) put me here and not there? I think there is. I think we are blessed so that we can bless others. That is the only thing I can think of. That is what we are here for. And oh my, if Americans really lived up to what they are here for, the world would seriously be a better place. We can make the world a better place.

And I think we are trying. America sends billions and billions of dollars to third world countries. I think Bush sent 48 billion to Africa alone. Not to mention all of our philanthropists and missionaries who send not only money, but people and time, one of America's most beloved resources.

I won't keep going, but suffice it to say that as wicked as America and Americans can be, there is so much good here that we cannot overlook nor take for granted. We have one of the most organized governments in the world - so much so that a pothole doesn't even go unnoticed. A pothole. Have you ever driven in Africa??

Exhibit A.


Fixing a flat tire. This happens quite often.

I would love to hear your thoughts on this - especially from you non-Americans out there...what is your view on America vs. the "third world"? Are we "here" and others "there" for a reason?

and I'm back.

It is so hard to answer the questions, "So how was your trip to Africa?" The right words never seem to come. Hence, I'm not going to use any words for the time being. For now I will leave you with some photos that hopefully do justice to the wonder that is Africa, and the beauty of the people we were blessed to encounter. In the meantime I'll try and make my brain come up with words that will suffice...



















Photos by Stephen DeVries of Bedouins International.

Read some awesome stories and see more photos on the Bedouins Blog. Personal experiences coming soon!

Love,
Jessi