Today I spent the day in Silence. Many words were exchanged (trust me, plenty of words), but in Silence just the same.

Our office has been shrouded in green marble paper with an atlasesque border almost since we inhabited our property on Rt. 310. In any case, since day one of our employment there, we've vowed to change that ambient fixture. A few days ago we chose our color and today we brushed, rolled, and rebrushed it on blank walls.

The color is called Silence. And we like that.

This evening a crashing thunderstorm shook the house while we sat on armchairs and chatted about our day. We went exploring for a rainbow the moment the sun made the drops on the screens glisten and we found one behind the house. We are happy to make the rainbow the object of exploration and care little about pots of gold at the end. Our riches are found in wet toes spread in green grass and dark blue-grey horizons.

There is one bridge into the town where I work. Many rivers flow through this large county and, consequently, many bridges. But into this particular little town, only one bridge spans. This bridge closed this past week for "at least two years," which is what we are told by those who enjoy being mysterious (though I guarantee it's because they are in as much mystery as we are). Because of this the commute to and from work, and to any other little hamlet around Saint Lawrence County, is made several miles longer.

I confess, I'm one of the raucous few who roll my eyes every time someone talks about "The Bridge Being Out." It's true.

But driving home on the detour, the navy clouds gathering behind me and the clear blue and white billows in front of me, I slowly drive down the hill--because small in front of me are the breathtaking Adirondack Mountains--blue and green peaks making up the majority of New York State. And I am thankful that my path looks different from this vantage point.

In a few weeks I am headed down the Virginia where the Makeshift Family is reuniting for the marriage of our very own Laura Knopp and Tony Avnaim. Who'd a thunk? That's all I know to ask. Because when we all first converged we were a different lot. Different people heading different directions. Sure, we added some and lost some, but we once we did converge, we mostly stayed the same.

A couple of them are getting married to each other this year and that's so exciting you see. I think sometimes we get stuck in ruts when it comes to our social structures and it pains us to see anything change; like the game of Jenga, we pull out an integral piece and wait for the whole thing to crumble.

But the older I get and the more relationships I build (and therefore have more opportunity to disappoint and be disappointed), the more I realize that the dynamics we once had might never be the same, but why would we want them to be? When we can add and make them better?

So I'm excited to see the Fam together for a long weekend, but more than that, I'm excited to see two of them joined in covenant--a future and a hope. A testimony of three apartments and how they grew.