en•gage•ment Spelled Pronunciation[en-geyj-muh nt]
–noun
1. the act of engaging or the state of being engaged.
2. an appointment or arrangement: a business engagement.
3. betrothal: They announced their engagement.
4. a pledge; an obligation or agreement: All his time seems to be taken up with social engagements.
5. employment, or a period or post of employment, esp. in the performing arts: Her engagement at the nightclub will last five weeks.
6. an encounter, conflict, or battle: We have had two very costly engagements with the enemy this week alone.
7. Mechanics. the act or state of interlocking.
8. engagements, Commerce. financial obligations.
I am officially engaged to the most precious man in the world. Christopher James Pearson and I are getting hitched! The whirlwind of dates, budgets, phone calls, and photos has begun. So many people have called and inquired thus I thought it might be easier if I just tell the tale here. Chris and I shared our two year anniversary on May 21st and he was taking me on a special date last Friday (May 23rd) to celebrate. I went ahead and brought my fancy clothes to work, figuring I would need to go ahead and get ready at the office in order to meet him on time. As I was packing up and walking out of the office, several of his guy friends were lined up in black suits wearing black sunglasses. They each handed me red roses and escorted me outside into a white limo. The limo took us first to the church Chris and I have been a part of for over a year. Being a part of this body of believers has enriched our spiritual lives and cultivated deep love for Jesus and one another. They took me into the sanctuary where two more of his friends were standing with two more red roses and a card. They walked me back into the limo where we then toasted with Dom Pérignon. Yum yum. Side note: when you give boys champagne and costumes they act like suppressed girls. We then traveled to Addison where Chris and I shared one of our first dates together. Two more of his friends, two more red roses, and another thoughtful card were waiting. After I was placed back in the limo they blindfolded me and led me to my final destination. Jake Lester’s sweet voice awaited me there and took me to my beloved. Chris took the blindfold (green bandana that didn’t match my very cute dress) off of me. We were in a gazebo in Highland Park that Chris and I had frequented before. There were white candles and crimson colored petals that adorned the space where we stood, the space that would host the exchange of a commitment that would seal our future. Chris was anxious and nervous in the good way. He said really kind and true things and then got down on one knee. Come on people some things are personal, only meant to be shared between a party of two. Shortly there after we got on our knees and thanked the creator of Love for the gift of love itself. He took me to a restaurant where most of our closest friends and family were there waiting in excitement and joy. It was the warmest reception I have ever been greeted with.
Thank you deeply for all of the people that made our night a part of yours. People even drove in from out of town and changed travel plans to share in this special day with us. How sweet is our God that he would give us a companion that would accept the ugliest parts of us and give them the persistence, grace and courage to unveil and help us through it? That I wouldn’t have to walk the plank of progressive sanctification alone? Our God is a good God. I miss my dad. I feel strong and confident because of the love he gave me and the character he instilled in me. I feel that I am rising to occasions that he prepared me for and yet he isn’t here to share with me the fruits of his labor.
And then the Lord reminds me, He is actually experiencing them wholly and perhaps I am the one who only knows the gifts in part. He is living in what remains imagery and hope to me. People say, “But your dad is here.” Or “He sees you.” And they mean so well. The truth that is given to me in the Bible wouldn’t suggest that he is some mystical spirit all around or that God will page him to the observation deck of heaven to watch his only daughter get married or be proposed to. Wouldn’t the majesties and beauty of His savior be captivating enough to hold his attention there? The Lord’s faithful promise to be a father to the fatherless is enough to cover and sustain me during this time. I don’t need the uncomfortable stabs at falsities that would submit that my dad is all around or staring from above to make this pain ease.
Hurt hurts. God heals. God mends these wounds and breeds intimacy in the inmost places of my heart that no man can reach. Chris is an incredible man. He isn’t a lover of money or held captive to so many of the things of this world that I and others are. He wants togetherness and for the people to gather and share so badly. He draws me out of the most selfish parts of me. This sanctifies and challenges me daily. He lives intentionally and honors God with the talents that have been given to him. For those of you who know me but don’t know him, I hope you have the privilege of spending time with him. You will meet a part of Christ that is inviting, genuine & fun; you will meet a part of Christ that is elusive in the busyness of today’s fast paced microwaved world. You will meet a free man and I get to marry one. I am blessed beyond words. Thank you Jesus.
Special thanks to Shaun Menary. Shaun is a gifted photographer and sacrificial friend. He is always pouring himself out, humbling us all with his gift to find and capture beauty through his camera lense. Thanks buddy. Check out www.mofarphotos.com to see more of his work!
1 John 4:19: We love because he first loved us.
Overwhelmed with joy and gratefulness, KH
My lovely coworker, Cheryle, gave me a parting Christmas gift for the holiday in the form of Vicki Archer's book called, "My French Life". Little did she know that I have spent countless minutes sitting in Anthropologie getting lost in the story and images, but never could bring myself to just purchase it. This book is all about how Vicki Archer, her husband and three kids who were from Australia, find this farmhouse (more like farm mansion) in the south of France about 40 minutes outside of Aix-en-Provence. They purchase the land and broken down palace only to spend the next three years working rigorously to have it even livable. 
Livable in deed. I am obsessed with their story and her exceptional taste. I think I need to be her friend. She says so many things about the people of France, the way of the French woman, charm, the organic beauty of the land and praises the experience of travel, all of which resonate in the inner parts of my heart. 
I then proceeded to look around a bit on the internet at real estate for sale near the same area and stumbled upon this dream of a home. It is situated on three acres, and even though I have never seen it before, the image of the house seems oddly familiar and nostalgic. 
The last picture attached to this blog is of a door outside the apartment I lived in while studying at the Sorbonne in Paris. I also have a sincere infatuation with doors. They are the keeper of so many secrets, things & people to marvel at, lives, tears, great loves and a fortified protector to those they keep. This dried bouquet of flowers is especially intriguing to me. They are obviously dead and were once alive. No one ever removed them. Did the person the giver intended them for never receive them? Did they like them so much the receiver decided to leave them for all to see? Perhaps the mystery person was lazy or forgetful or always running late like me and thinks, "Oh yeah, I need to throw those out... I will do that when I get back." Only to forget until they are running out the door rushed next time? I would never think to paint my door that electric blue color and yet I appreciated that door so much on rue de Oberkamf. 
One of the details we made for our wedding was a fun questionnaire that was situated on all of the tables at the wedding. One of the questions asked us each where we would go and live if money and travel for limitless... Chris said, "I would say London, she would say Paris...I guess we will just have to take the Chunnel." He knows me well. My lovely new espresso machine makes drinks that taste like France and on a morning like this one where rest, indulgent writing and reading are the only things on my agenda; if felt like France, too. 
