about snorkeling.

Hanuama Bay is a glittering crescent, carved out hundreds of years ago by pools of boiling lava. The water is a dazzling jewel of turquoise, filled with rainbows of tropical fish and coral. We joined the crowds of tourists and flocked to the sunny bright bay, decked out in snorkel gear. Timmy and I held hands as we flippered out into the bright water and, on the count of three, we ducked out of this world and entered the world beneath the waves. The sound of waves faded into a soft hum, and all I could hear was my own breathing and the elusive whoosh of water and bubbles. I felt slippery and light, as if I had become part of the ocean. I saw mounds of dazzling pink coral, white shimmery sand, and clouds of beautiful fish. We danced among striped fish, fish that looked like a rainbow had smeared across their scales, and I even teased a puffer fish, in hopes it would become scared and puff up. I found a small crustacean, no bigger than my little toe, hiding in a small hole in the coral. Fish swam so close I could feel the ripple of their fins as they flitted away. (They seemed completely unafraid of us as we swam among them. I think perhaps they saw our flippers and thought we were one of them. Tim thinks they are just used to people, since Hanuama Bay gets 3,000 visitors PER DAY, every day of the year.) And then we would break to the surface, and the noises of our world and the sound of our own voices seemed deafening. We'd laugh and smile and talk about our discoveries as we cleared our masks. Then we'd slip back underneath the waves, dazzled. We spent three hours snorkeling, until our fingers were pruny and Timmy's teeth were chattering because he was so cold. (Yup, he got cold faster than me!) 

If you ever go to Hawaii, promise me that you'll visit Hanauma Bay. It is truly a magical place. 

about beaches.

Hawaii is full of beaches. Some beaches are created just for tourists, with sand as soft as talcum powder, brought in by the truckload. Barriers go up, softening the waves into gentle murmurs, and lifeguards guard the buoyed off waters, complete with nets to keep the sharks away. Those beaches are relaxing, full of people, and, just a little, boring. 

Real beaches are wet and tangy, refreshing and wild. The crash of waves and spray of saltwater is constant. The sand is coarse and littered with small pebbles and broken seashells. The water in the ocean changes color with the sky and it swirls in a myriad of delicious hues. Sometimes grey, sometimes green, and sometimes the most shimmering shade of turquoise you have ever seen. The waves pull up from the deep, forming giant whitecaps. Breathtaking and intimidating at the same time. 

Those waves hold the power to hypnotize and make your mind churn as they crack against the shore. Sometimes, as I stood in the water, with the water foaming in swirling fingers around my toes, beckoning me to slide deeper into it's depths, I could almost feel myself being drawn out to sea. And then I would jump back to the safety of dry sand, away from the brilliant depths, the power of the ocean making me dizzy with fear. Timmy would laugh at me, and assure my rapidly beating heart that undertows don't manifest themselves in water less than six inches deep. Hmm. I was not convinced and rarely went into water deeper than my ankles. 

But there is so much more to real beaches than water. 

Palm trees bend and creak in the never ceasing wind that catches your hair and tugs at your clothes. Crab families skitter amidst craggy rocks and snails group in clusters along the rim of the shoreline. Bright green seaweed drapes in wet ribbons and seashells can be found by digging into the cool sand. 

But, the rocks are my favorite. Holes and spouts and crags, pounded into more shapes than you knew existed by the relentless waves. Small pools of water, warm from the bright sunlight, form here and there, home to tiny fish and mussels (until a huge wave comes and pushes them back out to sea). Sharp rocks that poke through your sandals, and smooth rocks, rounded out until they gleam. Ledges, columns, and caves are roughly carved away. 

It is fascinating to see such wild beauty created from pounding force. I have never felt closer to nature than my moments spent with Timmy on real beaches in Hawaii. 

birthday thank you cards.

 

 (original photography by Laura Zastrow)

about hawaii.

Hawaii smells like saltwater and flowers. The air is sweet and warm, and constant breezes dance with groves of palm trees. The sunshine is so bright and the skies are so blue. The ocean really IS a shimmering pool of turquoise and jade, and sand really does stick to everything. When it rains, there are always rainbows, and it never really rains for long anyway. Waves are mesmerizing, and watching them rise and fall becomes addicting. Falling asleep to the sound of the ocean is God's perfect lullaby (especially when you're snuggled in bed with a handsome husband). 
 
The people of Hawaii are beautiful, laid back, and incredibly friendly. Homes and businesses lay among sprawling streets, dotted with countless surfers. Everyone greets you with a bright smile and "aloha!". (Hawaiians seem to have a ridiculous obsession with speed bumps. Huge, extra bumpy speed bumps. Speed bumps that jolt your car and flip flop your tummy. Everywhere.)
 
Hawaii has fruit in every color and shape. Starfruit, dragonfruit, pineapple, blackberries as big as my thumb, pineapple, raspberries, strawberries, blueberries, mango, and guava. You have never tasted pineapple until you have had it in Hawaii. So sweet and perfectly ripe, dripping with juice. Mmmm.  
 
If there is a place like paradise on earth, Hawaii may just be it. It is intoxicating, pulling you into it's tropical depths and enchanting you with it's dazzling beauty. Time slows down as you find yourself just gazing at this new world, trying to absorb all it's radiant splendor. It fills your senses and captivates your heart. I feel like I'm still floating on a Hawaiian cloud.
 
Needless to say, our trip was nothing short of magical. (My very, very favorite part was having 100% Timmy Time for 8 whole days.)
 
More stories and photos to come. :) 

P.S. My birthday is tomorrow! 

learning to surf.

Today Timmy learned to surf. For $75 they give you a surf board and a super cool blue swim shirt, right after you sign a waiver, promising not to sue them if you die.

The sun was shining and the waves were high. Timmy was outfitted in his bright blue swim shirt, ready to rock. The surf instructor was big and blonde, tall and tan. I think the ground may have shook a little as he walked toward us.

Tim and Goliath shook hands. (Why do guys always, always shake hands when they meet?)

"Hey, what's your name?" says Goliath.
"Hey bro, my name's Tim!" says handsome, adorable husband.
"Tim," says Goliath,  "I'm Shawn. Your shirt is inside out and backwards."
 "Oh." says husband, turning a bright shade of red.

 

And then my amazing husband learned how to surf. He's a natural, as you can tell by the photos above.

We are having such a magical time in Hawaii. I can't wait to share more pictures and stories.

hawaii

 

 

 

friday favorites - home

I grew up in a valley, surrounded by thickly wooded forests and meandering streams. My parents built our house out of logs they cut down from our forest - kind of like modern-day pioneers. My daddy can build anything, fix anything. He is strong and smart and full of adventure – my hero. Because of him, I always knew what it felt like to be cherished.

We raised chickens, turkeys, ducks, pigs, goats, and cows. We spent hours petting, feeding, and playing with our livestock. And then we ate them. (This was before we became vegan.)

We had huge gardens full of vegetables and sprawling orchards of fruit. We planted fields of flowers in the springtime. We picked wild berries in the summertime and gathered nuts in the autumn. My mom cooked and baked and canned. She cuddled and loved and read us beautiful stories. She taught us to knit, quilt, make our own clothes, and to love the simple things in life. Gentle and sweet, unwavering and so, so good. Because of her, I learned what makes a woman truly beautiful, inside and out.

My two sisters and I grew up without television. Instead, we ruled the forests together as fairy princesses, with kittens and chicks as subjects, flowers in our hair, and eyes sparkling bright with imagination. We knew every tree, every flower. Hours were spent playing, (often completely naked), in the stream by our house. We tripped down hills, jumped off cliffs, raced through prickles, and climbed tall, tall trees. Because of my darling sisters, I have never known a moment without friends.

Daddy, Mom, and three little girlies made five.

And now, the three little girlies are all grown up. Two happily married with homes of their own, and one a globe-trotting missionary. (I'm the happiest of the happily married, btw.) But no matter where life takes us, I believe our hearts will always call our house in the valley home. No matter where we go, the love and character our parents patiently passed down to their three girlies remains.

And home is still one of my very favorite places to be. Only now, Daddy, Mom, three girlies, and two handsome husbands make seven.

And, with a house full of seven, all  my very favorites are in one happy place.

introducing Rebecca Beatrice O'Brien

Today I officially became Rebecca Beatrice O'Brien. (About time, huh?)

O'Brien is a great last name. And, as Becki O'Brien, I couldn't be happier. Tim and I have become we, the O'Brien family.

But I will admit to feeling like I've lost just a little bit of me. Becki Davison no longer exists, really. From now on, everyone who meets me will know Becki O'Brien and Becki Davison will be somewhat forgotten.

I had been Becki Davison for a long time -- 22 years -- and it served me quite well. I always felt that, while Davison was not an especially glamorous last name, I had been fortunate to not get stuck with a horrid or embarrassing or impossible-to-pronounce or dreadfully boring last name. My biggest complaint was that it was always mistaken for Davidson. No big deal.

Becki Davison is someone I know. Becki O'Brien is a new person to discover. I spent years building Becki Davison's reputation and character. I'm proud of the person Becki Davison was, of the choices she made and the things she accomplished. Becki O'Brien still has to prove herself.

So here's to Becki Davison. Here's to that blessed little baby, born into the happiest little family. Here's to the little girl with big brown eyes, who spent her days coloring pictures, and because she couldn't say her "R's", called herself "Webecca". Here's to the shy sweetheart who was loved and kissed and cuddled through her childhood by amazing parents and the very best sisters. Here's to the homeschooled teenager who graduated early and, honestly, truly, never really gave her parents any trouble. Here's to the college kid who worked long hard hours to earn her graphic design degree. Here's to the woman who chose to move to Madison just because the Lord told her to. And here's to the princess who saved her heart and held out for her perfect prince.

The days of Becki Davison are gone, but she will be remembered forever in the hearts of those who loved her. *sniff sniff*

And here's to the over-tired, emotional Becki O'Brien who is mourning the loss of the last name of her birth and desperately needs to go to sleep.

Living Nativity Poster & Bulletin Insert

Created for Faith Evangelical Free Church's first annual Living Nativity.

(Poster)

(Bulletin Insert)

next week.

Timmy: I'm just feeling really frantic today.
Me: Really?
Timmy: Yes. I feel like I'm out of breath. But I haven't been running. I guess I'm just out of breath in my mind.
Me: *Laughs*

Shopping trips, working overtime, design projects, Youth Group, little sister visits, finally getting my name changed, Christmas present planning, cleaning, packing, and preparing to go to Hawaii makes for one very busy week -- and two very frazzled O'Briens. This week.

But next week we will be lying on sand scattered Hawaiian beaches. Soaking up 80 degree sunshine. Eight days in paradise. Completely relaxed and totally in love. *happy sigh*

Sidenote: I have the most darling little sister and she is coming to visit today. Her name is Rynn and she is one of my happiest thoughts.

Photo Shoot

Sunday afternoon was a perfect medley of bright balloons, photography, delightful company, and Timmy kisses.

Tim and I had the amazing opportunity to model for a truly talented photographer.

Meet Laura Zastrow. She often mentions her dreams of becoming a marvelous photographer, but I think she already is one, don't you?

Madison is the perfect place to take awesome urban photography. And Laura sees inspiration everywhere she looks. It was such a great experience to see her look at an old building and love the texture of the bricks or the color in peeling paint or the visual interest of broken glass windows. I felt like I was peeking inside her creative mind, and suddenly, I was looking at the world around me in a completely different way. It's a wonderful ability to see such loveliness and potential in things that others might view as unsightly. So much of the beauty around us is too easily missed. That's why people like Laura are so special. She finds that beauty, captures it, and shares it with others. And not only is she just so talented, but her personality is just so enjoyable, too.

Timmy and I spent the afternoon smiling and posing and cuddling and kissing in the warm sunshine. We carried a brilliant bunch of balloons all over Madison. We posed in parks, on benches, in a telephone booth, in stairwells and a parking garage, against graffiti walls and buildings, by bike racks, and even in bed. (Check out the foot photo! And isn't our new comforter set pretty?)

 I am so in love with my husband. Delightfully, blissfully, head-over-heels. And I think that love really shows in these photos. These five breath-taking photos. I found them in my inbox this morning, and I have had a huge smile on my face ever since.

 

about laundry

In the almost-five months that Timmy and I have been married, we have done laundry three times. Three. It's true.

I think this proves a couple things. First, that we both have way too many clothes. (Don't worry, we never, ever wear dirty/smelly/stinky clothes.) Second, we don't especially love to do laundry.

It's not that doing laundry is a particularly loathsome chore. And we're really not lazy. It's just one of those chores that gets pushed farther and farther back. It's just that we would rather be snuggling  by the fire if we can push off laundry for just one more night.

Tim has officially run out of clean socks. Not me! I could probably wear a different pair of socks every day for at least two months. So, Tim has been borrowing MY socks. This worked nicely for a while, because I do have some boring black and brown ones. But, the majority of my socks are delightfully girly -- pink stripes, paisley, argyle, lace, etc.

On Sunday, we went shopping for new shoes for Timmy. A super cool looking salesman at the Buckle was helping us, bringing out boxes full of potential shoes to try on...

And then Tim took off his shoes. And we all just looked. Looked down at Tim's wiggling, pink striped feet. (And I noticed that his handsome face turned a very bright shade of red.)

After an awkward pause, Tim said nervously, "I umm.. I'm wearing my wife's socks today..."

"Yeah. Cool cool dude, whatever works, right?" The salesman avoided eye contact. (Boys are so weird.)

Me? I laughed. So. Hard.

As we were leaving the store (with the perfect shoes in hand) Tim firmly informed me that "we really HAVE to do laundry tonight, babe."

Well, it is Wednesday, and we still haven't done laundry. Today Timmy is prancing around in pink and purple ruffled knee socks.

And I have been giggling all day just thinking about it.

(I'll post a picture of my ruffled prince tonight, if I can convince him to pose for me...)