"Wouldn't it be nice to live together, in the kind of world where we belong?"

The prospect of writing another post about Pink Cameron seemed unlike us. After all, we would be writing on the mess we are still sifting through, the mishaps and, yes, even a few miniature triumphs. But our lives are more than farming and renovating a camper—schedules be damned. We were brainstorming on what to write about this week when it hit us: if we had kept our original schedule, we would be getting married this weekend.

"Maybe if we think, and wish, and hope, and pray it might come true.
Baby, then there wouldn't be a single thing we couldn't do."

Instead, we have been married five months. If you're new to our blog, the abridged version is this: We were on a long drive, listening to The Beach Boys' song 'Wouldn't It Be Nice', a song that would change the course of our lives. By the end of the car ride, we had decided to bump the wedding up five months, giving ourselves just five weeks to craft a day about feasting: on food, on communion with loved ones, and on choosing to enter willingly into an indelible union. As if it were a dream, everything just happened as it should. 

Beloved family & friends traveled on short notice from several countries, and states ranging from California to Virginia, to surround us with love. Bouquets made of kale and rosemary, table settings of rose hips and scotch pine, a boutonnière & a nature wand (carried by our Godson Isaiah, pictured above) — these were a few of the provisions foraged from Ohio's wintry landscape the week of the wedding. The playlist that Mark had spent weeks crafting song by song, in order that it may all flow together, did not even come on until midway through our celebration.

But when the infectious rhythm of Jumpin' Jack Flash filled my parents retro basement, bringing everyone to the dance floor, it recalled one of my most special memories. Six years ago, my Uncle Jay surprised my sister and her husband at their wedding by playing that song on his bass guitar. Scleroderma would soon take his life, but in that moment everyone was alive . . . very and totally alive. Six years later and dancing to the same song, tears poured down my cheeks and I laughed at how absolutely present Jay was in the room. I suspect his four-string, adorned with pride on the basement wall, was vibrating.

" . . . You know it seems the more we talk about it,
It only makes it worse to live without it.
But let's talk about it.
Wouldn't it be nice?"

Our nascent married life has been nice, albeit challenging. Rather than pampering and readying ourselves to walk down the aisle this week, we are unloading & stacking hundreds of hay bales in the barns at Consider Bardwell Farm and Wayward Goose Farm. We are catching the field mice who keep finding their way into Pink Cameron (see why we decided to take a week off from camper posts?). We are missing home, but also find ourselves pursuing the rustic & enlivening lifestyle that we were dreaming about when we listened to that Beach Boys song back in December. All things considered, it seems that we have been rewarded heartily for deciding to go with our guts. More than just our guts, though, it was that we chose Kairos time over Chronos time. Kairos is the 'supreme moment' in ancient Greek, understood in the Catholic and Orthodox church as God's timeline. Chronos is chronological time. Take it from us: choose Kairos.

If our wedding were happening tomorrow, given what we know now, it would be the single best day of our lives. Instead, January 16th was. If no day is ever as good as that one, it would be very, very alright. Incalculable joy was moving through both of us that day, from morning until night. I cannot see how a joy so monumental could exist again, but hell if I'm not open to it!