As of late, Ty and I have been finding ourselves in a state of what could best be described as premature nostalgia. We have this tendency to think of our relationship as being separated into seasons or chapters. For us, these chapters are most commonly defined by geographic location.
For instance, our story began unexpectedly in Guatemala, where our worlds collided and the Lord, in sovereign fashion, literally moved mountains to ensure extra time for our getting to know one another (literally, as in rock exploded in the form of a volcanic eruption). Then there was that summer in Ohio marked by long talks over coffee, late nights under stars, and lots of falling in love. The move to Moody came next—Ty’s first semester on campus and our first test of long-distance love. Following twelve months of frequent phone calls, four-hundred mile flights, and far too many nights spent apart, it was my turn. On August 12, 2011, I traded trees for taxis and set out to make the Windy City my home, beginning what I know we will someday affectionately look back on and call “The Chicago Years.”
Oh, Chicago. How I love you.
The soon-to-be-seminarian and I are unsure how long we will have the pleasure calling this beloved city home. With Ty heading to Trinity Evangelical Divinity School in the fall, we suspect we have at least another year and a half in the Chicagoland area. But the beyond belongs to the Lord.
Thus explains the nostalgia. Chicago will forever hold a piece of our story, and I forever love that. The scene of so many special moments, it has been the perfect backdrop for our first few years together…
That spot along the Lake where he popped the question.
Our go-to breakfast place. The one where we celebrated me saying “yes.”
The studio apartment on Barry—all 350 square feet of it. It was small, but it was ours.
That Starbucks on Wabash. The one where a boyfriend and a girlfriend mapped out their next five years together, only to crumple up the list and throw it away. The Lord’s ways are always better than ours. Always.
A park named Lincoln. A ring was sported and pictures were taken.
That little pizza place in Lakeview. Our carry-out choice for the last night on Barry Avenue. Eaten on cardboard boxes and followed by a night sleeping on the hardwood floor with towels and snuggies, it is the taste of one of my sweetest memories—of all time.
Moody. The halls that hold the echoes of memories too many to list. A place so near and dear to our hearts.
The old 1800’s cathedral. Our chosen house of worship and place our souls are fed.
The view on Wacker. We know the one.
And so the list goes…
If after a year or so we find our home elsewhere, know that you will be dearly missed, Chicago. But for now we’re going to enjoy this special setting of our newlywed season. Here’s to you making it all the more sweet!
Leave a Reply