the one where i wore white {after Labor Day}

Let's talk about the beginning of fall, shall we? When I lived in Georgia, there was virtually zero difference between the last day of summer and the first day of fall. I tried my best to transition my wardrobe (and my attitude) - but it generally took until October for me to feel like I could genuninely welcome autumn. But here in New England, the difference is a little more stark. The air feels crisp in mid-September, you need a jacket for every degree of difference, and you feel societally obligated to start eating copious amounts of apple pie/crisp/cider/cider donuts/you-name-it-I-want-to-eat-it. We gradually start saying goodbye to outdoor cook-outs, the laid-back summer schedule, shorts and tank-tops, and last but (definitely) not least - the heat.

But one thing I'm not saying goodbye to this fall? White denim. {Somewhere, some traditional elderly lady just fainted from shock.} Allow me to free you from one of fashion's biggest faux pas - I, Alexandra Ghoman, hereby declare on the 29th of September, that it is indeed acceptable to wear white after Labor Day. I don't know if you already knew this - but wearing white in the fall has been fine (and even considered cool) for awhile now. There's something so clean and edgy about pairing fall's deeper tones with stark white. So, along with wishing summer farewell and welcoming all of fall's delightful traditions and foods - I dare you to welcome rule-breaking and faux-pas bending right along with me! Everything, including the old ladies, will be fine. I promise:)

Jacket: Cichic.com

Plaid shirt: Old Navy

Necklace: Target

Jeans: Gap

Booties: Baker's

Happy fall, everyone!

xoxo

A+J

the one where i got {God} all wrong

"Growing spiritually" can sound a little generic, Christian-y, and virtually meaningless in our modern religious world, can't it? It can be easy to talk the talk of faith and devotion but much harder to sit down and actaully meditate on our connection with the Maker. But there's something about the changing of the seasons that helps me to stop and consider these deeper subjects. As I've been doing that, I've had some realizations that have awed and unnerved me all at once. Maybe they'll encourage you as much as they've been changing me. 

While Jesse and I were in Florida last month, we spent a lot of time talking with my parents about everything from marriage, to our cities, and to our lives in the ministry. During our last dinner (dad's famous steak, of course), we started discussing me and my guilt-ridden self. To be perfectly honest, Jesse MADE me talk to my parents about it...I pretended to be annoyed but I was actually incredibly relieved to talk with them - J knows best:) As it happens, my dad happens to be a recovering guilty-soul himself so he had a lot of insights to share. 

As we talked about what I was feeling, it was clear that my understanding of God and his character had gotten very....off. At some point over my 12 years as a disciple, I started believing that the Father we serve looks at me with ambivalence or worse, displeasure. And that he feels this way all or most of the time! This one lie, this one thought, had started to define and corrupt our relationship. And the more I've opened up about my adherence to this lie - the more I've started realizing that I'm not the only one who believes it.

When I sit down to study the Bible with people for the first time and talk about Christianity, I love turning to Matthew 7:7-11.

“Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you. For everyone who asks receives; the one who seeks finds; and to the one who knocks, the door will be opened. “Which of you, if your son asks for bread, will give him a stone? Or if he asks for a fish, will give him a snake? If you, then, though you are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in heaven give good gifts to those who ask him!"

I love this passage because it offers a guarantee of sorts - if we ask something of God - he's going to respond with kindness and grace. But this passage also forces us to consider how we view and look at God - do we view him as a loving father who wants to give us what seek? Or as a rude being who desires to give us a snake and "teach us a lesson"? Of course, I want my answer to be the former - but if I'm being honest, I intellectually know that God is a loving father but I can typically feel like he's the second guy - not totally pleased with me, intending to withhold good things, and typically bent on teaching me something the hard way. 

Sounds like an appealing God to follow, right?

Now where did this warped and twisted thinking come from, you ask? Is it the result of a relationship in my life? Or the culture I grew up in? Is it from my intense perfectionism? Or a weird interaction I had as a kid? Maybe. But I don't think so. The best I can tell - it is a lie as old as time and it started many, many years ago in the Garden of Eden. 

When that snake (ahem, Satan) tempted Eve in the Garden, he convinced her to eat from the tree God banned by convincing her that God was holding out on her, that he wasn't fully letting her in, that he didn't like or love her enough to give her everything in the garden. Now, was that true? Of course not! God was protecting Eve. He was trying to keep her safe from sin and shame and keep her completely and utterly close to him. But she believed the lie. She believed that God was holding back on her and it changed our connection to Him forever. 

Isn't that the same lie that you and I can believe at times? That God is holding back on us? That he doesn't like us enough to give us what we so desperately want? That maybe, just maybe he doesn't love us completely?

As I talked with my parents about some of these things, it became obvious that I needed a perspective overhaul and a reminder of who God really and truly is. It was time to stop exclusively meditating on the "what" of my Christianity and start focusing on the "who". Since that conversation, I've started studying out Jesus' character (I highly recommend the book Jesus the Same -- amazing!!) and remembering God's love for me everyday in my prayers. I keep reading and rereading Romans 8:31-39, willing myself to remember that God's love for me does not vary with my performance, my behavior, or my effectiveness as a disciple. Nothing can separate me from God's love! My dad has also taken it upon himself to send me different verses everyday about God's love and mercy - it's the sweetest thing in the world and my favorite use of iMessage ever:) 

All at once, I'm remembering that God's love is the ultimate reason and motivation for becoming and staying a Christian; it's the answer to our hurting world. Now don't get me wrong - I still whole-heartedly believe that God cares about our actions and our repentance. In fact, I'm convinced of that now more than ever! But I'm also realizing that his love grants you and I the freedom to try to please him all the more - without the fear of failure or the risk of loss. A complete, unshakeable, and unending love like this can provide us with a God-given confidence to face our weaknesses head on, give our hearts to others more fully, and step out on faith like never before. His love can propel us towards righteousness and growth more than duty or obligation ever will! 

I'm not sure if this is something you needed to hear on this September Friday -- but it sure is changing me. I hope that you find some time to bask in the total love of our Maker this weekend. It's incomparable.

xoxo

A+J

Romans 8:31-39

the one with the {summer shoe}

It's hard to believe that summer is coming to a close. The air already feels more crisp and all I can say is: I'M NOT READY! Am I the only one?! But anyway, here I am trying my best to soak up the last month or so of summer heels, bold patterns, and sleeveless shirts.This summer, I went on the hunt for the perfect summer heel. I find that wedges are either waaay too tall or kitten heel short (ugh). But these were the perfect height! And affordable too. I sold my wedges to a consignment store and coupon'ed my way to an Old Navy heel purchase. And these I'll keep for many years to come:) What about you? What's your favorite summer shoe? 

Top - Forever 21

Pants - H&M

Shoes - Old Navy

the one with the {garment probation}

An outfit that you can wear to church AND a picnic afterwards?! I have your impossibility right here, people. And it's found in a romper of all garments? Yep, miracles do happen.

I bought this romper several years ago while studying abroad in London. It's one of those pieces that I've thought about selling to a consignment store multiple times because: the back is odd (currently hidden by the cardigan), it used to fit a little tight (huzzah to health!), and I kept wondering if rompers were still cool. But I've kept the piece because: it's long enough to be appropriate without tights - a true romper feat, am I right? -, the romper is colorful, and it's made of a nicer fabric so it can be dressed up or down.

For church, I paired it with this bright pink cardigan and statement necklace. So for now, it's off the must-sell list and currently on probation. We'll see how long it lasts:) Please ignore the wrinkles. I chose not to photoshop it out because - you know, authenticity and all that jazz. Oh, and the fact that I don't know how!

Happy Thursday, everyone! 

A+J

Romper: Top Shop (old)

Cardigan: J.Crew factory

Necklace: Forever21

Sandals: Target

the one about our {second year}

Two years! Today marks two years married and I can't believe it. 

We just got back from vacationing in sunny and perfect Florida. For the first time ever, I'm fairly tan and for the millionth time ever - Jesse is incredibly dark. While we were there, we celebrated our anniversary at the Breakers Resort in Palm Beach. I can sum up the Breakers in one word and three syllables: AH-MAZ-ING. We turned off our phones and enjoyed the finer things in life - beautiful pools, delicious food, a TV inside the mirror of the bathroom (yes that's a thing, yes it's frivolous, and yes I want one). We are sooo thankful for friends with hotel discounts -- we had a wonderful time! 

The Breakers at night. Stunning!

Our view from the pool looking out onto the Atlantic.

My favorite thing about Year 2 as Mrs. Ghoman? Really and truly becoming best friends with my husband. That may sound weird but I mean it. Before we got married, I thought we were best friends - but to be honest - I was still probably closer to my mom  and bridesmaids than my spouse. After all, I knew my mom and my sister my ENTIRE life and my bridesmaids for years longer than I knew J.  That's a lot to compete with! During the first year we experienced so many transitions in life and in our new roles as husband and wife that it wasn't until this year that I could truly appreciate the friend I have in Jesse. Our friendship is in the little things: he pretends to love HGTV and Once Upon a Time and I respect his shark/whale/everything-animal obsession; we've created our own language of weird accents that we only use around each other (embarrassing, but true); we laugh a LOT and we comfort each other when we're sad; we have traditions and favorite meals/places/restaurants/movies; we know what the other person is feeling with fewer and fewer context clues AND we know how to help them through it; we don't just love each other -- we thoroughly and completely like each other. 

As I've considered this idea of friendship in marriage, I've thought a lot about the "profound mystery" that Paul describes in Ephesians 5. Paul talks about a man and his wife leaving their own families and "becoming one flesh" in their new family. I think this idea of becoming one isn't just something that happens instantaneously. Becoming one is a lifetime pursuit and process! We became a unit on August 12, 2012 when we said our vows before a barn-full of witnesses - but through God's grace we have the capacity to become even more unified with each passing day and year. What an incredible gift:)

So, here's to our second anniversary! I can't wait to see what Year 3 will bring. Thank you for following my journey as an incredibly imperfect wife and a grammatically woeful writer!

xoxo

A+J

{the one about jane}

My grandmother is 93-years-old and has lived a truly incredible life. As the end of her life draws near, I'm filled with so many emotions that I don't quite know how to encapsulate them with the english language! All I know is that it's 11pm and I have a desperate need to tell the world about this amazing woman who is about to make her exit.

Jane Guba is a red-head. And she has a vibrant personality to match. Her laugh is legendary - it's completely contagious and the kind of laugh that takes over a room. She promises up and down that laughter is the key to life and to a happy marriage - and considering that she's lived so long and lived so happily as my grandpop's wife - I would have to agree:) I've seen my grandma laugh so heartily at the shenanigans of her four daughters and twelve grandchildren that she's nearly had an asthma attack. She's also to blame for my terrible laughter timing - we both can't help but laugh when the people around us get hurt. I know, it's terrible!! Grandma's one flaw:)  But if you trip or fall in front of us - chances are we're guffawing in your general direction. 

There's this story about she and my grandfather when they were engaged - a few days before their wedding they got caught in a terrible rain storm. My grandpop, ever the gentleman, went to help her into the car with the umbrella but as he tried to get back into the car and close the umbrella - his hand got stuck and the handle started pinching him! Now what did my grandma do as my grandpop hollered and jumped around getting drenched in the pouring rain? What any respectable woman would do in that situation - laughed so hard that she couldn't even stop to help him! Funny enough, almost the same exact thing happened to Jesse and I during our engagement - except that half of his body got stuck inside the trunk as he reached into grab something. I was laughing so hard as he yelled for help that I couldn't even respond for several minutes -- oops! I know, I'm awful - but even as I write this I'm cracking up and I know she would be snickering right beside me. :)

Every year Jane leaves me the same voicemail on my birthday - she sings "Happy Birthday" and then wishes me in the sweetest, most melodious voice a "woooonderful day." Her voicemails are the best because she talks to me like we're writing letters back and forth. She asks me about the weather in Boston and about how Jesse is doing and always asks when I'm coming to visit her in Florida next. I have to call her back in order to answer her post-card voicemails and I wouldn't have it any other way. 

My grandma and grandpop have taught me what true love looks like - it's trips across the country in your RV, it's daily walks around the mall, it's serving your husband lunch, it's giving your wife a hug from behind as she does the dishes, it's matching La-Z-Boys, it's weekly dates to Wendy's, it's good morning kisses, it's overlooking an offense, it's laughing at the past. And now, it's holding hands and forehead kisses and telling her you love her as she prepares to meet your Lord. 

And that brings me to my favorite thing about Jane Guba - she taught me about God and what it means to live my life in service to him. Every visit, every phone call, every conversation has reminded me of what a love affair with God looks like. She doesn't just talk the talk of faith - she lives it constantly and I'm honored to follow in her footsteps. 

Watching Grandma face death has been an emotional rollercoaster for me and I can't even imagine how my mom and her three younger sisters must feel. I think the weird thing about death is that from an early age, we associate it with something evil and tragic. But as I studied the scriptures - I realized that there is nothing evil or tragic about my grandma leaving this world. I turned to one of the most popular Psalms in the Bible and there I found comfort,

"Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me." Psalm 23:4

Did you catch that? With God, I have nothing to fear and neither does my Grandma. There is no guilt, no fear, no evil - only hope. 

I'm not sure what day will be Jane Guba's last, but I know that it will be a day of both sorrow and joy. Sorrow for my mama, my family, and my grandpop especially. But I know that it will also be a day of tremendous celebration in heaven - one of God's precious saints is finally coming home. 

{the one with the bad beach day}

First off, I want to thank everyone on the crazy encouraging feedback I received on my blog post last month! I can't tell you how much it meant to me to read your comments and hear your responses in person. It was honestly surprising to see how many others are thinking about health and fitness right now -  I guess we're all realizing that we're no longer 18-year-old's:) But this post is not about health - I'll save a follow-up post for another time. This post is about establishing family traditions. 

Or at least it was supposed to be.

When you first get married, people are always telling you that you need to establish familial habits. So you can imagine how great I've been feeling about our new, once-a-week beach and picnic tradition this summer. I mean, come on - that's a pretty awesome tradition. Especially when you add in the fact that I'm literally summer's BIGGEST fan after the winter we endured. 

Anyway, here we are on our third free Monday of the summer and we're looking up directions to a new beach, checking out the weather, and gearing up for another country music filled trip to the shore. I heard of a beach south of the city that seemed promising so we headed out the city, crossing our fingers for sunny skies and discussing our wonderful new tradition. To be honest, I was also imagining the yet-to-be-written, perfectly adorable, summery beach blog post complete with picnic advice and cute little couple photos. {I know, gag}

However, when we arrived, things didn't quite go according to my vision. The beach? Well, it wasn't really there. High tide removed almost all of the sand and left us with approximately 6 feet of rocky (and I mean ROCKY) shoreline. The sun was also hiding and it even felt a bit too chilly for bathing suits. My wonderful husband was starting losing faith in our plan. He suggested finding another beach or (gasp) going home. I, of course, refused to allow this perfectly perfect and quite bloggable moment to be thwarted by a lack of sand and sun. I even got offended that he would suggest abandoning the beach that I found (can you tell that my day was starting to go downhill?)!

I soldiered on and tried to lay out our beach blanket on the last sliver of sand. We sat down and began eating our packed lunches in a state of mounting tension. Before I could fully state my defense for the beach, the waves came up and we scrambled to get out of the way in time. Jesse started laughing hysterically at the sheer ridiculousness of our ill-fated beach day and encouraged me to give up and laugh it off too. And I wish I could say that I joined in and moved on - but we all know that a woman of my caliber of stubborness and complete lack of flexibility could do no such thing. While J surrendered to the picnic tables away from the beach, I defiantly put my towels on the rocks - yep the rocks - and laid down, bent on proving my point. Pretty soon after he walked away, I realized that my crazy had officially come out. I spent the remainder of my time at the beach praying and adjusting my attitude. 

Ah, traditions! So beautiful, aren't they? 

So anyway, I've been planning on telling you about our oh-so-cool beach tradition, but God had plans to humble me instead. And to be honest, I think my diva moment made for better post anyway. Sometimes I can get so caught up in the "perfect" day that I miss out on the entire point of such special times - who I'm spending my day with! So who cares if we didn't have a very instagrammable day? We laughed, we cried (ok, I cried), I learned a lesson, and we shared a strawberry frappe on the way home. 

It's the little things y'all:) 

By the time we left, the sand was finally starting to show :) Just our luck.