to nick.

Our life in Long Beach has consisted of nothing less than a long list of adventures: late nights, early mornings, lots of coffee (me), ice cream (nick), and Mexican food. We have miscommunicated, misunderstood, and mistreated each other. When he says I cleaned the bathroom, he really means: I organized it, and when I say I’m making a quick run to the store—what I really mean is: I’m going to Whole Foods keep an eye on our bank account. The list of things you learn about a person once you marry them is both wonderful and terrifyingly vulnerable. Six months of marriage and we have already kissed with morning breath, left our laundry until the last minute and even eaten peanut-butter toast for dinner. We have cried ourselves to sleep disappointed in our not so perfect- human-spouse, and disagreed on more than just television shows. However, one thing that six months (even three weeks) of matrimony will highlight is our need for Christ.

Six months is not a long time, however it remains a mini milestone for us. As we celebrate today I remember the details of what has made all 182 days so unique, unimaginable and unpredictable. In 26 weeks I have worked harder than I ever have at a relationship that came relatively easy for 8 years. But hey, the cross was not pain free, and neither is the process of being sharpened by my “spiritual best friend with lots of benefits”. Perseverance produces joy. It produces the nights of belly-aching laughter and indescribable passion. Thank you, Nick for being my husband. I wouldn't want any other squeezing my hand before we fall asleep.

I love you.

The reason that marriage is so painful and yet wonderful is because it is a reflection of the gospel, which is painful and wonderful at once. The gospel is this: We are more sinful and flawed in ourselves than we ever dared believe, yet at the very same time we are more loved and accepted in Jesus Christ than we ever dared hope. This is the only kind of relationship that will really transform us...But a good marriage will also be a place where we experience more of this kind of transforming love at a human level.
-Timothy Keller in The Meaning of Marriage

Smells like Rain.

This morning I grabbed my purse, lunch, and keys and while twisting the brass knob on our #7 apartment door I smelled it. RAIN. In Southern California rain is a rarity, therefore if you are a true So-Cal girl you tend to have very specific memories associated with the smell of it. Mine flooded my mind. Suddenly I felt as if I were in San Diego, a college student, living with my best friends. Rain made for a quiet campus, busy coffee shop, and always a reason to sleep a little longer. It meant squeaky windshield wipers, more traffic, and an excuse to buy a chai latte. It inspired feelings of gratitude towards my English professors (for while all the finance majors wanted nothing more than to curl up and read a good book—us English majors were just doing our homework). But most of all, the smell of rain reminds me that while we were residents of Escala Way, Katy Ness (now Rogers), Dawn Marx, Danielle Sidari and Jaci Perry (now Ranieri) had to look out for the hundreds of snails that would line the walkway to our front door. Too many times the crunch of an innocent snail being crushed prompted shrieks that could be heard through three apartment walls and a locked door. These memories make me laugh and made the commute to work a little lighter, because even though us Californian’s “can’t drive” in the rain— we sure can remember it.

Everyday..

John 15

The Vine and the Branches
1 “I am the true vine, and my Father is the gardener. 2 He cuts off every branch in me that bears no fruit, while every branch that does bear fruit he prunes[a] so that it will be even more fruitful. 3 You are already clean because of the word I have spoken to you. 4 Remain in me, as I also remain in you. No branch can bear fruit by itself; it must remain in the vine. Neither can you bear fruit unless you remain in me.
5 “I am the vine; you are the branches. If you remain in me and I in you, you will bear much fruit; apart from me you can do nothing. 6 If you do not remain in me, you are like a branch that is thrown away and withers; such branches are picked up, thrown into the fire and burned. 7 If you remain in me and my words remain in you, ask whatever you wish, and it will be done for you. 8 This is to my Father’s glory, that you bear much fruit, showing yourselves to be my disciples.

9 “As the Father has loved me, so have I loved you. Now remain in my love. 10 If you keep my commands, you will remain in my love, just as I have kept my Father’s commands and remain in his love. 11 I have told you this so that my joy may be in you and that your joy may be complete. 12 My command is this: Love each other as I have loved you. 13 Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one’s life for one’s friends. 14 You are my friends if you do what I command. 15 I no longer call you servants, because a servant does not know his master’s business. Instead, I have called you friends, for everything that I learned from my Father I have made known to you. 16 You did not choose me, but I chose you and appointed you so that you might go and bear fruit—fruit that will last—and so that whatever you ask in my name the Father will give you. 17 This is my command: Love each other.

One thing I learned from the ER

Last Tuesday night I spent 10 hours in the ER for what ended up being a very painful—but hardly fatal burst of a cyst on my ovary. (Apparently these little buggers are fairly common). My experiences in the Emergency Room may someday elicit an entire book of stories within itself. I could write about how the elderly Asian man sitting next to me in the lab-room had what seemed like an excruciating “pregnant” belly, or how the male nurse who took my blood cautioned me that pain in my lower right abdomen could be my appendix and if I were not on the operating table at the time of the unfortunate explosion my chances of survival would be slim to none. There was a nice man who snuck me ice cubes since I hadn’t been allowed water in almost 6 hours and the woman who whispered in my ear, “don’t worry girl, I saw your ultrasound results and you are not pregnant.” Then there was my husband, who was kind enough to not only walk me to the restroom, but also place me on the toilet seat itself.

After 10 hours (8 of which I was forbidden to see my husband), 12 large needles, 6 examines, 2 ultrasounds and one physician’s assistant later...Hubby and I limped our way out of the Long Beach Hospital only to realize that parking was $5 and we had no cash. As I sat myself lop-sided (the butt- shot hurt the worst) in the passenger seat of our rumbling truck waiting for Nick to find an ATM; my eyes fixated on the blurry- florescent-green clock blinking 4:00am. It was then that I realized: Nick put that paper toilet seat cover on differently than I had always done it.

Wait a minute…

I think he’s right!

hello beautiful, it's been a while.

writing challenges me.
writing exhilarates me.
writing used to define me.

now- 7 months after graduation writing has quit me.
Or have I quit putting my pen to paper?

hello again blank pages, challenge accepted.

prepare for some ink.

cheers to pursuing depth, hope, hilarity and curiosity through the brutality of honest writing...

Memory

It was a Thursday night in late January. I remember sitting in the passenger seat of my dad’s car after a long soccer practice. Butterflies swarmed in my stomach as I became warm with excitement. Was this the release of endorphins from the running I had been doing or was this because I was finally on my way to Nicholas Ranieri’s house?
I sunk into my seat and took a deep breath. Dad caught on, “Nervous Jac?” he pat my knee and gave me a wink. I smiled. “Dad! I can’t believe we have to get these papers signed tonight! I’m still sweaty from practice—and look at my hair!” He laughed at me, as he often did, and with a sigh said, “You look beautiful to me Jacquelina.”
I was a freshman at Oaks Christian High School. It was a new school, with new friends and I had invited Nick Ranieri to be my date for my first High School dance. He was a good friend from middle school, cute, athletic, and funny.
I remember pulling into his small driveway with an excitement of the unknown bursting through my every limb. While in my baggie soccer shorts and with shin-guard lines still embedded in my calves, questions surfaced in my head as I approached his yellow house, “How long will it take for his parents to sign this permission slip? I hope the dance on Saturday is fun. What will he think of my practice uniform? Does he like me as much as I like him?”
I had never liked a boy so much in all my short teenage life. It was his friendship I valued, his caring nature, his athletic lifestyle—even the way he treated his mom. I liked his flirtatious smile, the way he would laugh with his friends, how he would send me texts about my day, and most of all I loved the way he would hug me like he really meant it.
My finger pressed the doorbell and within seconds a beautiful, smiling face opened the door, his mom welcomed my dad and me into their home with joyful and generous hugs. Their house was warm from the burning fireplace and smelled like a delicious dinner had just been served. I instantly felt at home. My feet shifted on the wood floor and turned me down a hallway where I recognized another bright smile. “Hi!” Nick said, and before I knew it I was wrapped up in another friendly embrace. “Hi!” I responded-- the butterflies in my stomach took flight once again, “I brought the permission slip you need to sign for Saturday.” “Great! I’ll have my mom take a look at that.” He passed the slip of paper to his mom and the four of us spent the next few minutes touring their home and commiserating with each other about the cold weather, and our hectic team schedules.
“Jaci,” Mrs. Ranieri began to reminisce, “I remember how busy you must have been last year playing volleyball for our middle school, while also playing club soccer. How you ever did both, I will never know!” Dad responded with his quick and witty sense of humor, “Laura and I nearly passed out from exhaustion from all the driving!” With sincere laughter Mrs. Ranieri commented, “I know the feeling!”
Midway through the conversation, Nick slipped his hand in mine and we left our parents to finish the petty details of permission slips and school liability. I followed him down another hallway to where he turned to face me, locked both my hands in his and asked me to be his girlfriend. I was elated to say, “Yes!”
Little did I know back then that this boy would never stop smiling at me. For the next seven years he would loyally and lovingly hold my hands, cheer me on, and become my best friend. Seven years after that tender Thursday night in January, the same four hands would lock together as the same, smiling boy would slip a ring on my finger and ask me to be his forever.

This Joyful Life

I RUN in the path of your commands, for you have set my heart FREE.

Psalm 119: 32


To RUN after the Lord is such a powerful image. His word speaks so powerfully. As I spent this morning gazing out over Lake Michigan, sitting with this verse alive in my hands, my heart grew full with joy. This is my God's simple life instructions to me today, this week, this year... every year... take me on this journey Lord. Im excited to run for you, after you, with you forever.


amen