The Every Day V-Day

It's 4pm and I'm well aware that within 10 minutes the quiet in the house will be replaced with jostling story-telling children leaving wet boots, snowpants and all manner of miscellaneous accoutrements all over the used-to-be-clean mud room floor. They will be competing with each other to tell me the latest and most amazing parts of their day (or tattling on each other) and in doing so, I guarantee that a fist-fight will almost break out in their haste to beat the other to the best parts of their day.

I know this will happen. It always does - in a Groundhog Day sort of way. No matter how many times I sit them each down and give them separate time to talk to me, they feel they've got to push their way to the front and be first. 

So the best part of my day comes when I see my tall man fill the back entry. The cavalry has arrived! He wraps me in his giant hug and I'm taken back to our 3 months of dating. He gave me a hug every time he came to pick me up to bring me back to Michigan. His soft flannel shirts and his musky deodorant and Dove soap combined to sear my memory with the smell of "home". He is and will always be my home. Even though, I'm physically standing in our house with our three little people clamoring for our attention (at that very second trying to push us apart as we stand together)... I am satisfied knowing my best friend is with me so I am home. 

With tomorrow being V-day, this love and marriage stuff is on my mind. I've come to the conclusion that Valentine's Day is quite honestly a horrible day. I know, I know, I can almost see your fist full of candy hearts ready to toss at me... but hear me out. 

It sets up husbands with unrealistic expectations. Then it gives wives a rotten rollercoaster ride. Is he gonna remember what day it is?? Maybe! Maybe he's got a secret getaway planned for us!! Then she tells herself that whatever happens will be fine. But she knows it really won't be. On the flip side for the hubbys, it almost gives them a get-out-of-jail-free card. If they can nail a seriously romantic Valentine's Day, they've got brownie points saved up for a rainy day. Who cares about doing the stuff around the house she needs done every day: help with homework while she gets dinner ready, connect and listen to the kids when a game is on, wrestle with those crazy balls of energy when the Xbox is calling his name... why bother?! "She's good because I took her out and wow'd her."

The Every Day Valentine's Day is completely lost with that kind of idea and obligatory compulsion we place on our men. 

What is the Every Day V-day, you ask?! Let me tell you! 

It's the man who puts in a couple loads of laundry just because. He makes sure my van has good safe tires and is properly maintained. He even cleans a toilet or two. He takes care of his mom by starting her car just before she leaves so she can get in a warm vehicle. He bathes the three dirty monsters while I finish cleaning up after dinner. He always finishes whatever project/work stuff he's got going by 9pm so we can sit together and talk. That same man will give a "hog back ride" to all who wish one on their way to bed. (We don't have a piggy in our house; we have a hog. When Jonny was little, he'd stand at the top of the stairs and holler "Hey HOG!" so he could get his ride!)  He makes the best coffee every. blessed. morning! He listens to me. Even when I don't make sense. He encourages me to enjoy the moment and laugh in the crazy. He prays with each child every night and tells them a story or sings them a silly song from his imagination. He makes sure my debit card has enough for our needs. He gets excited over my good deals. It is the simple. The daily. 

As all marriages can attest, sometimes it doesn't 'feel' romantic and all that jazz. But it's not just candlelight and roses and quiet dinners that rates (or should rate) on the romantic scale but doing life together... diapers, laundry, work, frustrations, kids, family, love, honesty. That's true romance. 

It's hard work to be intentional; not allowing electronics and time to creep up on you but creating that space for talk. Date nights out don't happen every month like I would prefer, but we have time every single night that we sit together and talk. We talk about life outside of kids and we talk about kids: Can you believe the House raised the debt ceiling?! Did I tell you what Jonny said?? (He was frustrated with something and said,"oBAMA!" Then looked up at me and said, "That's a bad word isn't it, Mommy?" He thinks anything you say in frustration is a bad word. By that point, I was laughing so hard!!!!) Crazy what damage a sinkhole can do when it's under the National Corvette Museum! What IS Billy Ray Cyrus thinking bringing back that insane song Miley style?! Yeesh! I tell him about the Common Core curriculum and Matt Walsh's blog... and all the crazy FB thread comments and we land with thankfulness for our wonderful ZPS and West Michigan bubble. 

Sometimes it is simply laughing; inside jokes and sideways glances and even body noises! He has always said you have to be able to laugh when your spouse lets one rip. :) At dinner, it starts with one of the kids (usually Jonny the Ham) doing/saying something bizarre and then I find myself laughing. They keep laughing so I laugh harder until it's just one big Laugh Fest! Laughter truly keeps balance in the middle of a dinner with particular palates and a frustrated cook. 

One of my favorite things in the whole world is looking across the table at my best friend and catching his eye knowing we're in this together. Absolutely nothing beats it! No romantic weekend (however nice) beats out the day to day shoulder-to-shoulder blood sweat and tears of life together. We have each other's back and that's a good start to our future. 

So, let's take Valentine's Day off *our* calendar and remember the Every Day V-day. :) 

It's better for your marriage! 

My Absolute Worst Fear

I have a lot of fears. 

Someone taking one of my children (kidnapping/sex trafficking)... someone robbing them of their innocence while at a friends house... a fatal car accident while Mike is driving with all the kids and I'm the only one left or worse yet... Mike having an accident that puts me in single parent mode forever (I'd make a HORRID single parent - like I'd screw them up completely.) 

See? I told you. And that's only the few related to our little family. Trust me there's more; which begs a few questions: why do your children get on a school bus each morning? Why do they go to a friends house to play? How can you let your husband pull out of the driveway with all of your children in the backseat? What if... what IF you get that phone call from some random police officer telling you that they think they found your husbands car and all the car seats are filled but no one appears to be responding? 

How?! I trust Him... and He is g o o d. It may sound cliche but it's true. I cannot trust in the safety of our vehicles, the moral values of other families, the knowledge and quick-thinking of teachers or bus drivers, or even (as good at it is) the driving skills of my wonderful husband. I must trust my all-knowing, all-powerful God. I fight to keep that in my thoughts as I hear the news and horrors like Sandy Hook and sex-trafficking stats for the Super Bowl. Even as the FBI made that daring rescue of those 16 children and some 45 women during the Super Bowl, the danger IS real and each one of those scarred women and children has a name... and one could have been my beautiful daughter. It seems logical (at least to me) that since I have no real control over what calamities befall our family, I'm left needing desperately to trust in a good God who works all things for my good - His glory. 

But...

What about the things I CAN control? Somehow those things don't make my desperation list. Things like: writing, staying fit, time management, not yelling at my children... things I am continually working on. But I've realized lately,  I've got this idea that since "I" am somehow working on them, I don't really need to trust Him with them. 

Screwed up, I know. 

Another thought hit me right about when that one did: what if someone who knows me started reading my little blog? This person could be my neighbor or friend or family member... someone who knows me outside of this online place. Would they have an "ah-ha!" moment seeing the words I'm writing lived out in my life or would they say "Her writing is pretty good if you don't know her." 

I love to craft words so that the reader feels the irony or their heart wrenches with emotion or they find themselves bust out laughing at the humor of a situation. But that idea of my writing not matching my life to the point of someone being completely turned off to the Truth I treasure... well, it just freaks me out. I've even let that fear be the reason to quit trying. It's very hard to believe that I have something unique to say about, well, anything. 

Trust me, if you take a look at the archives, there are articles about Kony2012 and the 2012 election and many others. I have lots of opinions about everything from the State of the Union debacle, to the current boycott of Girl Scout cookies, to being a mom and making a difference in the world by doing the next load of laundry. But so does e v e r y b o d y else and their grandmother. 

This is where the trust thing comes in. I must trust Him still. Even in the things it appears I can control - because let's be honest... who can control time management when your preschooler decides to take grapes and bounce them all over the floor while laughing hysterically and when they squish? Well, suffice it to say, he laughed so hard he couldn't breathe. Yeah. My little plan of doing this thing then and getting that done now... not happening. Or staying fit when one of the children's very-deserved consequences inconveniences me. 

I must trust Him that He has given me this desire to write and ask Him to show me what to say. Using the gifts He has given me IS a way to bring Him glory. But I must keep myself face down in His presence knowing how easy it is to get full of myself and negate the very Truth I treasure. 

I guess fear isn't such a bad thing if we take the time to dig through the why and come face-to-face with the Who at the end. 

How about you?  Let's chat!! 

What fears do you need to dig through to find the why and see the Who? :)

A New Year, A Whole-Hand Birthday & Drinking Deep

It's been quite a while since I've sat down and began intentionally lining up letters to make words to make sentences and to piece together some of my scattered ragged thoughts. 

My writing lately looks like a few sentences here and there copy/pasted into a handy app called Werdsmith. :) It stores my bits and pieces until I can take one of them and stretch it into a complete thought... and yes, it's an app, which means my husband has completely Mac'd me. He gave me an iPad for Christmas with a keyboard case and I couldn't be more thrilled!! The test came when my Dell laptop came back from being cleaned up and reimaged... and I tried to use it. Before I realized it, I was tapping the screen seriously irritated! I wasn't sure if I would ever get the hang of thinking in Mac-land but lo and behold... wonders never cease! 

I guess you might say I get a bit more retrospective when my children's birthdays roll around but even more so with Jonny's birthday. January 22nd will be his "whole hand" birthday! (Turning 5 is the current highlight of his life!)

One of the habits I'm choosing to make this year (I detest resolutions. I don't need to resolve anything! I need a revolution!!!) is one of daily being in that soul-reviving Living Word drinking deep so my thirst is quenched by Him and no other. There is a white board on our back door Family Center with Jesus' response to the woman at the well... (tUrV - the Uninspired ruth Version) You've tried so many other things to satisfy that deep down driving desire... I'm right here! What are you waiting for?! If you come and drink deep of ME, your driving desire will be met. I am the LIVING Word. Everything will change when you saturate yourself in only Me. 

So I found my dear One Year Bible stuck on a shelf and have been keeping mostly on track and when days pile up, I'm learning to simply read a bit more and go on. :) No guilt. 

So, this day, I sat down with a cup of coffee to read and a little man followed me wanting to sit next to me. As a mom, my emotions were mixed. I wanted to snuggle him and hold him close but I also just. wanted. to. read. without. being. touched. So, I explained to him that Mommy wanted to sit and listen to Jesus talk to her and read His words. If you want to get your VeggieTale Bible, you may quietly sit next to mommy, but there is no talking right now. We are listening to Jesus talk to us. 

That sounds all great and fine, but when rubber says "hiya" to the road of reality, what really holds?! I was shocked, actually.

He is quietly sitting next to me, Bob and Larry staring at him as he turns the pages silently. I am reading and listening to the Voice of Life... and the next blessed thing I hear is this rather loud stage whisper: "Do not fear, for I am with you!"... "Do not fear, for I am with you!"

I didn't know whether I should laugh, cry or hug him while I laughed and cried! He looked up at me and said "I'm saying my verse from school, Mommy. They are Jesus' Words. Right, Mommy?" 

Oh sweet little boy, they are Jesus' words! Those are the very words I was praying over and over "a whole hand" of years ago before I'd even met you. Then remembering those words as you were carted away from us for testing... and trying desperately to hear them while walking through the Trial by Potty Training. I can say... it is TRUE! Even in the darkness of the never-ending battle of potty-training, He is with me and I will not fear. 

While I am somewhat known for a deep enjoyment of good sarcasm, there is none in that last paragraph. 

Truth-moment? Potty training this boy was a deep dark time for me. I was staring into another year of *just* him and me at home purely because he REFUSED to do what he needed to on that toilet. Lots of dark thoughts flitted through but I knew ( k n e w )deep down that God doesn't ever make mistakes. It wasn't the easy choice or thought to grasp, but Truth rarely is. 

That moment, that stage-whisper, those precious words said by the little boy who still surprises me... when his big brother was disappointed about not joining the "Glasses Club" of which the rest of the family is a life-long member, he patted his leg and said consolingly, "It's okay, Michael. Jesus conquered the grave. It will be okay!"... these (and many others) are evidences of my Father who will not let me go whatever the darkness or exhilaration because He. Loves. Me. 

Did you get that? Because it's true of YOU, my friend. 

He. Loves. You. :) Even in the rain. Look up and smile because you bring Him joy. 

Splash in those puddles! Laugh hysterically because you have nothing to fear! 

He truly has conquered the grave. :)

Liberia: my pre-trip thoughts

History is scary. It's a real-life true-story that happened to flesh-and-blood people somewhere in the world and... I am utterly fascinated by it.

World War II and the stories of Jewish families being helped by various people are by far my favorite part of history. I bite my nails with suspense as the Gestapo are within inches of finding those they sought but miraculously the asthmatic are silenced and those who hid these precious ones are protected. I want to stand up and cheer for the good that triumphed over such grotesque evil. But the hardest part was the reality that this happened. There are death camps to prove it.

I want to believe that I would do the same. That I would welcome into our home those who were sought by an evil government. That I would give my last breath to do without apology that which protected another's life. I am given an example to follow by amazing people such as Corrie Ten Boom and Dietrich Bonhoeffer who did exactly that. 

I've recently been confronted with another piece of history. This one is far more recent than Hitler.

1980... while Samuel Doe was carrying out his coup in part to free the country of the corrupt government by the elite aristocracy, I was 3 years old - learning my letters.

1989 -1996...  Liberia falls into her First Civil War - those same years find me completing highschool and beginning college.

1999-2003... Liberia enters her Second Civil War and I finish college, begin teaching and get married. (Here is a link to a timeline of Liberia's history - if you are curious.)

Does it shock you? Do the parallel events make your mind spin? It should. That was the hardest part about reading these 2 books. The second is by far the "easiest" read but still a heavy one.

Reading the stories of horror stated so simply and plainly... It was mind-blowing that these things happened while I carried on my little life and acted on the opportunities given to me. Namely those of being an American, learning, gaining an education, working in my field, meeting and falling in love with my husband.

I still find it difficult to truly come to terms with the awful fact that right now as I'm comfortably sitting on a couch in our living room pressing the keys of this laptop, there is a war raging somewhere, bombs exploding, soldiers lurking, fear pounding the heart of a child, parents desperate to protect their family, basic needs far from being met - the greatest of which: knowing that they are loved with an everlasting love.

Honestly? I really don't know what to do with these facts.

I'm going to Liberia in an effort to help educate teachers but still I wonder... how much help is one untraveled American woman anyway? I have an education degree, yes. But there is such a huge need in every area of life.

Even as I reread that last sentence, I remember that every physical need can be met and in meeting those needs a person will still find themselves achingly empty and void. (i.e. most Americans).

I feel hauntingly inadequate for the job ahead of me. Teaching Lesson Design to 300 teachers?? Yeah. I'm trying not to have my little freak-out meltdown. For the last 8 years, I have been a mother and wife - even a new writer - but not a teacher. Every other teacher on the team is far more qualified than I am. It is very intimidating.

So I am left where I should be: trusting that God will use me - whatever that means. I am convinced that He wants me on this team, going to this country, at this time in my life. He is faithful to complete what He begins. So I rest in that.

-- Stay tuned for my "post-trip thoughts"... coming soon!


** If I have piqued your curiosity, there is a Facebook page that is sharing the few precious photographs remaining since most of them were destroyed to hide tribal affiliations in an effort to save lives. I also challenge you to read the books I mentioned above.

And Still Peace Did Not Come by Agnes Fallah Kamara Umunna 
http://books.google.com/books/about/And_Still_Peace_Did_Not_Come.html?id=lKfOCorHYCsC


The House at Sugar Beach by Helene Cooper
http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/2643182-the-house-at-sugar-beach

Four-Eyed Dog Face

She was lost in her own world. She could hear the noisy chatter of the other kids in the hallway but only as through water. It didn’t matter to her that Tasia was tossing a lunchbox over her head or that Marcus was whispering behind his hand. She was just about to depart on a fantastic journey into her vivid imagination when her ears picked up that dreaded name that had somehow become synonymous with her own. She hated it. She wanted to disappear and never be seen again.
Why did having glasses and a name you could bark mean that it had to redefine your existence as a 5th grader? “Four-eyed Dog-Face” was certainly not written on her birth certificate.
She figured it was some kind of payback for gym class.
The teacher was preparing them for the annual field day at the local college. As they formed two parallel lines to compete in the 50yd dash, she just hoped she wouldn’t trip and make a fool of herself in front of the entire class. In a flash, she realized not only was she at the front of the line with the teacher about to blow the whistle, but Marcus was her opponent. Marcus, the fastest boy in the class and quite possibly the meanest, would not let her forget it if… well, she’d just rather not think about that right then.
The whistle blew and she was off like a shot. She gathered speed running on the balls of her feet and only slowed after she crossed the finish line. She didn’t even notice she was the first to cross the line until her team was screaming for her. Her elation vanished as she took in the anger and rage on his face as Marcus promised to get even with her.
All the rest of the day and evening, she worried. “What if he grabs some buddies and corners me somewhere and I can’t get any help? What if he follows me home from school and waits until I’m all alone? What if… “
She worried herself right into staying home from school 3 whole days. Her mother could not figure out what in the world was wrong with her: no fever but a continuous headache.
Finally, she told her mom about the race and the threat. Her mom made a couple phone calls and much to her dismay, she found herself at school the next day.
She walked to her locker, hung up her things to the whispers. She sat down and got her things ready for class to start and was glad that the words quieted as the teacher began. She learned that any amount of time spent in the hallway or playground was an opportunity to hear those words that hurt more than any punches thrown.
She also learned to see others who were picked on and began to help them instead of listen to those lies.
That 5^th grade girl grew up to one day have a classroom of her own. She couldn’t quite shake the hurt of the names so her heart was continually soft toward any hurts in her classroom or the playground. She built into her classroom the idea of a family. A family protects each other and doesn’t tear each other down. A family forgives even when hurt. A family is kind when others are not. A family is a safe place.
She later married. Recently, she heard her son scream at his sister some name he made up. The instant she heard it, she could almost hear those 5^th grade names. She looked into their sweet blue eyes and spoke from her scabbed-over hurt that every single person is a special creation God has made. When you call them a name or make-fun of them, you are doing so to their Creator. It is not funny nor is it ever EVER okay to call names. No matter what friend thinks it is funny, do not ever join in making fun of someone else. Stop it, instead. Learn to see someone else’s bad day and encourage them instead of tear them down.
So that “Four-eyed Dog Face” girl is trying to plant seeds of tenderness in her own children… and maybe even open an eye or two by sharing this story on her blog.

What?! You want me to go where??

Do you know where Liberia is?

Could you point to a map and find it on the continent of Africa? (See I gave you a hint!)

Until a month ago, all I knew about Liberia was that it was a country in Africa somewhere.

Well, now I know a bunch more. Why the interest, you ask?

I'm going there. But it's in AFRICA! Yep. I'm aware. I'm still going. When God's after you about something, you don't just tell Him no without consequence. (think Jonah.)

I was sitting in church during the "most wonderful (er busiest) time of year" when they first mentioned the trip. "Calling all teachers past and present! Our sister church in Monrovia Liberia needs help educating their teachers."  That small Voice nudged me. You need to go. You need to as much as they need you. It was so quiet that the busy turkey and gift season soon drowned it out.

I was sitting in church in the quiet stillness post-holidays when the trip was mentioned again. This time, the Holy Spirit came in the form of my husband's elbow. This man doesn't suggest things that he hasn't thought through. He knows me so well. As I saw the calm of peace in those blue eyes, I knew that whatever fears I piled up in my own mind and heart were nothing God couldn't sort out.

And sort out, He is. Shots (I had none as a kid and need a BUNCH), the rainy season, clothing, culture, BUGS, SPIDERS, more BUGS... do you get the bug factor?? Yeah. Let's just say that when I went to camp, my dear mother sent me with a super-sized can of Raid and a giant flyswatter. I was the most popular girl in my cabin.

I even wanted to be a missionary. I went to Moody Bible Institute, made it out without my Mrs degree but instead a BA in Elementary Education. I wanted to throw wide the doors of my heart and go wherever God called - Korea? Germany? China? Spain?  Aaand I ended up in Arlington Heights, IL. Not the least bit missionary-like I know. But I did meet the man who gave me my Mrs. degree. :)

God's got a serious sense of humor. He's taking me (a teacher who hasn't taught in 10 years) to a country that has lots of bugs and other living conditions that freak me out to prove how great He is and how I'm not.

I'm beginning to understand... that's the point.

Facebook, Bubble Wrap and Some Gut Honesty

Facebook. I never dreamed it would become such a crutch in my life.

It can be so useful and helpful... keeping in touch with dormmates and roommates (not to mention extended family) across the globe. Who is getting married... who is having a baby... who is trudging through a rough time... what God is doing... a funny from a little boy... praying for those weeping over a loss... a little girl and her pretty dress... all of these are amazing effects of an amazing bit of technology.

But how did it come to replace true friendships.

I find myself feeling the ache. Missing the camaraderie of a phone call... hearing the person's voice. I now have to settle for seeing words on a screen.

Gut honesty? I compulsively check who liked my status, feeling better about my day the more people there are. Silly, huh? Yeah and slightly pathetic.

I don't want to sound needy. No one really wants a friend long term who sucks the life right out of you with complaints and "tears on the shoulder" all the time. A friend listens and asks and doesn't thoughtlessly pour out, but what do you do when you feel like the seams that hold you together just won't take one more day of stuffing it all in.

I have fought the looping tape in my head that says I'm just not worth friendship and tried to count gifts in the ugly moments. Snowflakes swirling outside when the kids are swirling inside on a snow day. The giggle of a little boy, tickling his tummy, cradling him as his eyes close... even when nothing (absolutely nothing) got checked off on my list.

I want to believe that I'm okay with who I am and what I do everyday, but that horrid four letter word aims for my heart, FAIL, it labels me. Over and over.

I fight that too. I used to believe it because it seemed logical, but once I began to recite the Truth over and over - I could see it for what it was: a lie. Failing is something that I do. Sometimes. It is not who I am.

The Truth? I am loved. I am made new. My ugly old self who loves to control is gone and He has given me grace. I deserved none of it! That's why it's Grace. 

If I could, I would bubble wrap my heart with grace so I would never forget what it feels like and how God sees me. Completely covered in His perfection.

My crazy children don't allow me to simply be still and reflect often but that's what I must do all the time - somehow.

I have to see grace covering every little thing... even the ugly. Even Facebook. It is grace to me. But it is not a substitute for "feeling good about myself" in other people's eyes.

The only Person who I must see myself through is Jesus.

The culmination of this begs one very important question: Whatcha gon do 'bout it?

The last few weeks, I've tossed around an idea that will help my heart see and feel the grace that I know is there. It may seem legalistic to some but that's okay. :)  I know God is asking this of me.

I will spend time looking through His eyes first before I spend any time seeing through anyone else's. No Facebook (or Pintrest or anything else) until I sit myself down at His feet and am reminded of who I am: a daughter of the King of Kings covered in His rich robes of grace.

As I put one foot forward in this dance, thank you for this little space and for honesty. :)

Have you considered all your options?

I could feel a coldness that had nothing to do with the thermostat. From the moment we entered the office, it was a stiff and sterile white place. But it was more than just a color vibe. We both felt it. The place you find out the worst news and go have your problem “dealt with”.
We were ushered into the Genetic Counselor’s office where she asked us every possible question – and I mean every. When I thought my pregnant brain could stand no more, she said we were finished and we found ourselves back in the waiting room. A woman in a lab coat appeared and said she was the ultrasound tech and to follow her.
As I was prepped for the ultrasound, I was relieved to at least know this process well and began to relax.
Right up until the tech began making comments.
Things like “Are you sure your dates are right?” and “You really tested negative for gestational diabetes?” I did my best to keep my sarcasm under control, but I wanted to say something to the effect of “Listen sweetheart. I know that I know that I know my dates are right. I know my body. I can give you the date of my exam and the exact date of my missed period. Any questions?! Good.” But I let it come out more of a joke that yes I most assuredly knew my dates and haha wasn’t it funny to find out I’m pregnant right after my yearly exam.
After the tech was finished, we waited for what seemed like an eternity until the doctor came in. She drew in colorful diagrams on a white board how our son has these foreign sounding diagnoses because of his brain and that he might not be able to run or play football and that he would likely have developmental if not mental delays. And have you considered all your ‘options’?
When she asked us that question, the fog of medical terms cleared as I let her know in no uncertain terms that our only ‘option’ was to welcome this baby into our family. My body was shaking with barely controlled rage that someone would dare ask me if I wanted to get rid of our child who may not be perfect and may have special needs.
Today, January 22, 2013, is the 40th anniversary of Roe vs Wade. It is also his fourth birthday.
He is the life of our family. He runs and plays, drives his trucks, plays with Legos, pretends with his two siblings and loves to wrap his little arms around my neck and remind me that he loves me. So much.
God has truly given us a gift as his name says.
Jonathan Michael, I pray that you will always sing “My God is so big, so strong and so mighty! There is nothing my God cannot do!”

Surprised by Christmas!

I’m surprised by Christmas this year.
Not the “Wow! I didn’t realize it’s Christmas already!”, but “Wow. I feel closer to the manger this year.”
If you were to step into our house this year, you would not find a freshly sawn 8 foot Fraser decorated with strands and strands of white lights accented with handmade country ornaments as in previous years. Faux-evergreen garland would normally wind around the banister, adorn the top of our china hutch, and hang over the slider. Every room would have something “Christmas-y” in it. (Of which there is always some decoration who doesn’t get on the flight back up to the attic come January.)
This year… there are three little trees on our coffee table: a red, a green and a pink one. They were carefully decorated by little fingers from ornaments saved for them from previous years. There is one strand of lights (which is half lit) draped over and around the trees. A beautiful poinsettia decorates our dining room table, and the much requested box of Christmas books has been opened and given a prominent place with easy access.
The piece de resistance of this living room is under the three little trees. If you look there, on the bottom shelf of the coffee table, you will find The Christmas Box. Inside are the stuffed figures who tell of the magnificent promise, the humble manger, the rowdy shepherds, the tender couple and the precious Baby.
Make no mistake, there are 3 large tubs filled with decorations still sitting in the attic. The tree is still attached to its trunk somewhere in the woods. There are strands of lights that all work in some store. But last year, all of those things were amazing and beautiful but in the end, brought me no closer to the manger.
This year, I am filled with an awe that no decoration can take credit for. Before you jump to the conclusion that Christmas decor is an anchor weighing down your very soul, I do not believe that those things (in and of themselves) are bad – at all! They are beautiful expressions of celebration. The catch is to remember what and Who you are celebrating.
The thrill of my evening came as I’m dishing out Blueberry Buckle and watching the kids open the Christmas Box. They were giddy!! Jonny took each of them out and organized them by size (like any good engineer would). Chloe looked over them to make sure they were all there and that Michael hadn’t tossed one of them behind a couch yet. But as they handled them, their eyes got that “far-off” expression as they remembered the Story.
Isn’t that it? Story. The Ultimate STORY!
I don’t know about you, but I love it when someone tells me a story. But the BEST part comes when at the end the storyteller punches it with “this really happened!” I sit there in amazement replaying the story in my head, reeling with “This wasn’t just a story – it really happened!” Somehow it makes the story even more special! The characters and setting, plot and device, villain and hero were real people.
There are many “stories” that float around this time of year. Great stories, funny stories, but mostly they are fiction – maybe even inspired by fact – but at the end of the day – fiction.
I am fixated with the Story.
The perfect (not one sin – ever!) Baby in the filthy dirty animal feed trough, the new mom who had to figure out the mothering thing as she went along, the young husband who took a huge leap to marry his pregnant fiancée and couldn’t even touch her for 33 days after she gave birth so he could fulfill the Law, the hotel manager who was so busy with the mundane of his little life that he missed out on the supernatural, the unforgiving law that forced a pregnant woman on a difficult journey, the rough and tough fight-off-lions-and-bears-with-just-a-stick yet no one wanted to associate with them shepherds, the king who saw himself above the law, the wise and discerning star-gazers who were sensitive to God’s direction, the elderly man who spent every day of his life waiting expectantly to see The Promise before his very eyes… the most amazing story, is it not?! 
But wait… the BEST part?  It’s ALL TRUE - each and every bit actually happened in a little place called Israel!! This is not just a nice religious legend so that old ladies can feel comforted. That perfect Baby really came - fully God and fully man. He came for one purpose and one purpose only – to be my Savior. Before the beginning of time, His Father knew we’d screw up His perfect world with this nasty junk called sin. He knew we were hopelessly lost in mire of our own making and worse? separated forever from Him.
But God.
He planned that His perfect Son would be the only payment we’d need for our awful sin. Even when we hated Him and we’d eventually curse Him and kill Him on a cross, He loved us and died for us.
It’s MY Story! The payment that guarantees me eternal life through nothing I could ever do came at an awful cost. The Father gave up His beloved Son for me.
The very least I can do is push the mundane junk of my day aside, huddle close to the manger, worship Him, and long for the day when I can see His face.

Kids, Cracked Pots, and Grace!

3 kids. A completely messy house. Thanksgiving break. AND family coming for the holiday usually equals one horrible day with a mommy losing her cool and only half of the job done.

That was supposed to be Monday.

But Monday was THE best day I've had with my kids in a long long time!

Now, I'm no parenting genius, but I know what works for me.
I dislike cleaning.
A lot.
I only do it because I love what it looks like afterwards!

So... I stacked the deck for myself. :) 

-I prepped their minds for the task as they went to bed the night before.
(Mainly, that PBS wouldn't be on until the job was done.)
-I decided that this could really be fun!
(I didn't dread it with an attitude.)
-I let them stay in jammies.
(who cares what they wear if they're working!)
-I put on upbeat music for dancing purposes!
(They could only dance if they were putting things away :)

It worked!

I should've taken before/after shots of the living room. The dining room table was covered in random bits and pieces from the weekend. Sunday school papers, toys, books, homework folders, backpacks, wii remotes... you get the idea. The living room had landmines of Legos strategically placed for the unassuming foot to find. The kitchen looked like I hadn't had the thought of cleaning it for quite some time. Food/crumbs all over the floor, each counter holding a piece of some meal that was partially cleaned up not to mention piles of dirty dishes - we have 3 sizeable counters... so you do the math. Oh. And the dishwasher was chock-full of clean dishes.

So, with Mandisa, Jamie Grace, and Go Fish pumping through the speakers, we danced and twirled our way to a clean house! Complete with Chloe and Michael asking to vacuum the couches (almost fighting over who gets to do what!). At one point, I almost fainted from the shock of watching Chloe ask Michael if he could get some large thing that couldn't be vacuumed and he obliged without issue! 

It was the greatest day... EVER!  So much so, that I almost forgot about parent/teacher conferences!

Even then, the conferences made for an even better day - more reflective.

Chloe loves to write stories, her vocabulary is enhanced by her love of chapter books, she's using paragraphs when they haven't covered them in class, she's great at math, and has a bestie that her teacher knows better than to seat together. :) I sat there listening, thinking how this little girl is so much like me. And for the first time - I was not beating myself up for my issues but so very proud of her strengths. She's growing and learning! My heart simply overflowed.

Michael's teacher commented how much fun he is to have in class. His huge smile and "willingness to contribute in class" which is to say he loves to talk! He has come so far in the first 3 months of school - reading and learning so much! His teacher  said that when he asks a question he can always count on Michael to have the right answer!! We just chuckled. :) This kid knows so much and loves to share! My heart kept on flowing over...

In case you're thinking this post is a brag on my kids or my parenting, it's not. At all.

Photo courtesy of calm-energy.blogspot.com

This cracked pot has enough cracks that it's obvious it has nothing of its own. It's only (and I mean ONLY) what's God's doing in it. I'm thankful beyond words for the days I described above where things all fall into place, but they can only be appreciated if there are the other "not-so-good" days. You know, the ones when you feel like the worst mother alive... when it's work to believe that there is grace out there for even me.

That's why I can write this.
I'm not boasting. I'm living proof of God's goodness! His grace is big enough for even me! 

Your day may not go so well today, but God's grace is enough for you too. :) Drink deep!

And the answer is...

Drumroll please......

I've had a few guesses as to the false statement in the previous post. 
David T. suggested that they were all true. :)
Ruth V. said - "I almost moved to an island in Alaska."
Kristin V. submitted - "I didn't get my license until I was 18."
Kathryn J. kept her submission secret but said she's sure of the answer. 

I'm sure you're all on pins and needles waiting for the answer. So without further ado...  

The one false statement is "I was homeschooled all my life." 

So that makes all the other ones true! (You might want to read through that list again...)

I doubt some of you will be shocked, but I was considered a serious dork back in the day. I was and still am a book-nerd. Words and the use or disuse of them is very important to me. I have a continuous grammar-check and spell-check going in my brain. Since having kids, it has calmed some, but every now and then my nerd-self has a flare-up. :) Writing and striving for the perfect blend of words to illustrate an idea in bold color make for more flare-ups. I think it's just who I am. 

It took long enough, but I'm finally okay with my nerdiness! I'm not cool - I'm just me. :)

The exercise of writing this list came from my recent journey of coming to terms with my life experiences. I'm sure there are, at the very least, several posts in there somewhere! Some are difficult, some are sweet, some heart-wrenching, some have long-term side-effects, some are the best things ever, some (like my hair in school pics) I'd rather never think about again... but sifting through each one has been good - hard - but in the end good. 

In fact, I'd highly recommend it. 

Make a list of facts about your life. Facts that some people may know or not know. Stuff maybe you've never said before. Compile it. Look at it. Read it. Those things make up who you are today. For better or worse. Look at it and see beyond those things the God of the universe who loves you.

God is not limited by your experiences. If He was, well let's just say He wouldn't be God. But since He is the King of Kings and the Lord of Lords - He's BIG enough to even orchestrate the events in your life to create the person you are now. Taking the pieces of yourself you don't like out of His tapestry would leave ugly gaps and spaces. He has designed you and even used your worst moments to show His power. 

Let God be God. We're not.
He has the ultimate right over your life - and He's better at it. :) 

So as you're "Carpe Diem-ing" and dancing in the rain... remember He's still working because He loves to take messed up people and show His glory! 

Where were you?

I was at Christian Liberty Academy, getting ready for the day. 

For once, I was in my classroom early and never heard the news reports until my students came in and told me that some planes had crashed. Since planes sometimes crash, I reassured them we would pray for those people during our prayer time.

We were well into our morning when a fellow teacher came up the back stairs crying uncontrollably. I rushed into the hall as she sobbed how the Pentagon was just hit. That’s when I knew something was really really wrong.

After crowding around a TV set with my fellow teachers (and later, listening to the fighter jets scrambling overhead), we got the full situation and sat spellbound, in disbelief.

It just didn’t seem real. It felt like Hollywood took over our TV screens. It had to be Hollywood, right? We hear about countries at war and bombings a regular occurrence there, but here in the Land of the Free and the Home of the Brave?! No way. Or wait… maybe… wow.

As we continued our day, I briefly explained what happened to my class. A hand shot up. A little second grade boy asked if we could pray for Mr. bin Laden that he would know how much Jesus loves him. My eyes filled and for a second, I couldn’t speak. When I finally could, I said, “Yes, Bryan. We can. Jesus died for Mr. bin Laden too. Didn’t He?”

That one question changed my class forever. Every single day that year, 21 second graders prayed for Mr. Osama bin Laden that he would know how much Jesus loves him and give his life to Him.

Eleven years later, so much has changed. The TSA has become almost dictator-like with what we can and cannot take on flights. As citizens, we undergo humiliating searches so we can board a domestic flight. The fear of “What if” rules every aspect of our life. We have military presence and are engaged on several fronts. Many soldiers have given the ultimate sacrifice for this country. Many young men and women watched the footage in Highschool and decided to join the Armed Forces to make sure this never happens again. I hope and pray it never does.

Before school this morning, as they dressed in Army camo and red, white and blue, I told my children what happened eleven years ago… Flight 93, the firefighters, the terrorists, the Twin Towers, the Pentagon… they sat motionless with their mouths open, disbelieving.

I said, “Never forget, Chloe and Michael. We have real heroes who dashed in to save people not caring what happened to their own lives. Honor our Patriots. Never forget!”

stushietoon.blogspot.com

God didn’t forget about America on that day. He took a horrific tragedy and used it to turn many hearts back to Him. 

Never Forget!

Where is God?!

A helicopter was just shot down in Syria.

The Taliban beheads 17 people for having a party.

Tropical storm Isaac is to hit Florida anytime.

The Republican Convention is delayed.

The GOP is worried that momentum will be lost.

The body of a Navy Seal is brought home to rest in Michigan.

Japan is dealing with tsunami warnings.

These are just a few of the things I just watched – courtesyof Mhz Worldview on PBS. (I find it refreshing to have a native reporter give the news of their country; not to mention hearing news that doesn’t just involve our little nation.)

Don’t get me wrong… the 2012 election is much discussed here at the Verkaik dinner table. Fears and concerns regarding where we are and where we are headed courtesy of the current administration added to the frustration of not being able to truly vote our conscience and we are left wondering: What can we really do?

Storms and natural disasters rampant, death-tolls high. Haiti, El Salvador, Japan… many more.

Wars. Unjust governments. Evil men.

It begs the question: Where is God?!

He's not far. He is there, holding the hand of the widow as her husband is washed away in the floodwaters. He is cradling the child as he finds out his parents were shot in the street-fighting. He is riding in the car with the family of the fallen soldier as the street is jammed with flags and people saluting.

He is not powerless but personal.

I will not give you a theological treatise on the sovereignty of God, but I can say from personal experience that the awful things that happen to you are not because God is far from you.

I know.

He is close to the brokenhearted. He saves those crushed in spirit. He is holding you even when you think He’s abandoned you.

I have no idea what is in store for our country. I want to blow a whistle and scream for the whole world to cease fighting and bickering. I want to take all the bombs away and put the bad guys in time-out. I wish I could fly around like Superman and prevent every disaster. 

But I can’t.

I must trust my all-powerful, all-knowing PERSONAL Abba God, Yahweh.

Join me?

A little TLC

That's what I haven't done in awhile to this now very neglected place.

A little bit of time, a few 100 words or so, and some creativity... but alas. My poor little blog sits all by itself and you readers are ignored.

To reassure you, I have not been inhabiting a palm tree filled island drinking lemonade. (Although I did get to spend 3 days with my sister in Kansas City, MO - which at 105 is tropical enough for my tastes.)

Rather, I've been riding the wave that is Summer With 3 Kids.

You know... the one where you constantly feel the tug to do something fun, but your sensible side says, "But Wait! The house looks like a Tropical Storm passed through!!"  We have had a ton of fun doing a bunch of different things, balanced by the quick "hey guys, let's get the laundry put away before we go".

It just doesn't produce a whole lot of time to thoughtfully write. Though, I've probably written at least 2 posts in my head... they just haven't made their way here yet. :) I know... excuses, excuses, but honestly... it's true. At one point in an airport, I was in the very act of fleshing out a really cool idea when I got zapped by the Family Drama Monster and I never got back to completing it.

But, there was a BONUS silver-lining - I was finally able to finish some mending/sewing projects... and even reorganize my scrapbook space! Such an "aaahhh" feeling now when I walk into my office/craft space. I feel creative and inspired instead of defeated and dreading the unending list of projects never started - not to mention never completed.

For us, Fall and school have begun to finally sink in and puncture our current reality of going to bed with the sun. School supplies are sitting crisply in their appropriately labeled paper bags waiting for the appointed day. Backpacks stand ready to be worn. And my to do list is getting longer by the day with all the things I meant to do over the "immensely" long summer but in reality, like life, you blink and you miss it.

Michael just completed Kinder Camp - a "pre-jump" into the year so the kids can get acquainted with their new teacher and some classroom routines. I don't think this kid ever stops thinking. He's always processing something. Tonight at dinner, he asked me, "Mommy, does my teacher know about the Bible? I know he can't teach from it, but do you think he knows about the Bible and God?"  With his second mother interrupting me and trying to outvoice me, I said, "Sweetheart, why don't you ask him?" He responded with, "Can I bring my Bible to show him?"  Smiling, I said, "I'm sure your class would LOVE to see your cool Bible for show and tell." That satisfied him. :)

This year will stretch and pull and grow us all. It will pinch and be a pain at some points too, but I'm going to remember that a little TLC goes a long way... especially in this blog!

That's my summer dance coming to a close... :)

Our Relationship - Part 2

Here's Part 2 - Enjoy!!  If you missed Part 1 - here's a link.

Back at home, I gave up on the end-of-July-job-thing in favor of preparing for the upcoming school year. Knee deep in lesson plans and copies of worksheets, I got an email from my traveling buddy. She told me that she’d gotten an email from Mike asking her for my contact information. She wasn’t sure what to tell him and I was scared out of my mind that a guy was actually interested in me. So after a week of indecision, I finally emailed her back to tell her to give him my email.

He emailed me a very cordial note and in the third person tells me about how he met a really neat girl at the campout and wondered if she was interested in getting to know him better. I obviously was able to put two and two together by this point, but seriously - the third person??!   I emailed him back in kind. I told him that there were lots of really neat girls there and I wasn’t sure which one he was referring to. I wasn’t prepared for the list he sent me of all the things he had noticed about me that weekend!

I replied that he would need to talk to my dad in order to date me - figuring that he’d turn tail and run. Nope. That man kept on pursuing me! He even conspired with my father to surprise me by showing up on our family vacation. On that vacation, my dad unknowingly threw down a gauntlet. He told Mike, an engineer, that courtship is the only biblical model for premarital relationships. Telling an engineer that there is only one way to do something is one surefire way to discover at least 3 more ways to do it!

They agreed to research their ideas and come prepared to discuss their findings on Labor Day. Yes, indeed! That man of mine wrote an eight page paper to prove to my father that God does not specify a formula for a relationship. Rather, He states very clearly what a godly man or woman is to look like!  My indomitable father pointed out that he would still call it courting even though we considered ourselves dating. Yeah. Can you see one other facet to complicated relationships?? Parents contribute their issues as well.

To refresh my memory, I just dug out my ½ inch thick folder of emails we traded the first few weeks we began to know each other. Rereading them took me far, far down memory lane! I remember how I felt more comfortable conversing in letters and keys rather than voice. We’d begun to call each night for a couple of hours – depending on our schedules. School hadn’t started yet so I had flexible evening hours. It was obvious to both of us that we each wished it were more like 4 hours – and sometimes it was!  We just couldn’t talk enough! He seemed to intrinsically understand me and vice versa. We even finished each other’s thoughts.

For me, in those first conversations, it was scary how deeply my father-relationship issues affected our relationship. There were times while talking through hard memories, I didn’t know what to say or be afraid to say what I really felt. He simply allowed the silence on the phone and waited. He told me over and over that I was worth the wait. I had never felt more cherished.

Long distance relationships are not easy nor are they uncomplicated – though I’d like to point out that no relationship is uncomplicated! We learned to hear each other’s heart as we spoke over the phone. Both of us were sold out to God and open for His leading. We were very careful to go forward in the relationship with a clear purpose.

God answered our prayers; making it very clear to us as well as those around us and close to us that we were made for each other. That phrase has gotten rather raggedy and tired after being used in far too many chick-flicks. What I mean here is that we’re better suited for God’s purposes together than apart. What’s the point of a relationship? Marriage. What’s the point of casting off a life dedicated to serving God as a single person? Being used MORE as a married person. Relationship has a very clear purpose in God’s eyes. We are made to glorify Him – and Him alone. If you will not be glorifying Him more by being married to this person, then you need to reconsider.

Time began to be a factor in both of our lives; mine as a teacher and his as a busy engineer. We both quickly realized that we needed to set guidelines so we could keep our commitments to others as well as get to know each other more. A schedule was put in place of calling certain days and emailing the between days. It was hard to keep, but we managed. Absence certainly did make the heart grow fonder, as the saying goes.

After Labor Day, we added the dating aspect. Each weekend, depending on our plans, Mike drove 4 hours to my apartment to pick me up and bring me back to Michigan. This scenario brings me to the next critical part of any relationship. We made Physical Contact Guidelines and circulated them to the people around us so we would be held accountable. Both of us were in our upper-twenties, we were head-over-heels in love with each other, and we both wanted God’s best for this relationship. That meant self-control. It’s easy to justify a little bit here and a little bit there, but before you know it, you’re in bed and scary-close to crossing sacred lines.

We talked openly and very honestly about our pasts and what we wanted to include in the guidelines. I didn’t have much of a past, except that I knew my love language was physical touch. He did have a past and some regrets, but he was determined to do this God’s way. The guidelines will be very unique to each couple and their areas of temptation. It was very important to Mike that he not make promises he couldn’t act on. For example, he decided that we would refrain from saying “I love you” until there was a proposal and ring. I decided that we wouldn’t kiss until then. I’d never kissed anyone before so it was very special to him that he was my first and only.

We held hands and learned more from listening to each other than touching. It was good. It was also very hard. I don’t think I’ll ever know how hard it was for my man, though. He told me once that he could never let his guard down. It would be far too easy to give in to his feelings if he did.

Then one day, the day after Thanksgiving 2002 to be precise, he and I went for a drive to a nature preserve called Volo Bog in Northern Illinois. It was cold but not much snow on the ground yet. The sky was gray and overcast, but we walked the boardwalks over the spongy bog and enjoyed the occasional bird call. We came full circle to a large grove of evergreens. Those gorgeous trees had to be 15 feet tall, but the bottom 8 feet of their trunks were bare to give room for bog trekkers to relax on wood benches and take in the view over the bog.

It was here that we stopped to rest and sat shivering together. My heart almost stopped when he got down on one knee right there and opened the book he’d had inside his coat. It was a Bible. He opened it and read to me from Genesis 2, Ephesians 5, and Ecclesiastes 4. As he closed the Bible, he told me he’d been waiting for this moment for a long time. Then he showed me the cover where he’d imprinted my new name in gold letters – Ruth Lynn Verkaik. You see, my parents had given me a special Bible in 6^th grade with my name on it. That same Bible marked and underlined my spiritual journey from 6^th grade until that moment. He knew the significance of it and had seen how only a marriage based on His word will make it. As I saw that cover and heard him ask me to be his wife, I just balled – happy tears of course! He slipped the ring on my finger while I tried to see it through my tears. He already knew my answer. J By this time, we both were so cold we could hardly stand. We headed back to his car and then to my apartment where we kissed for the first time.

As we headed back to my parents house to share the news and begin the rollercoaster ride they call “planning a wedding”, I couldn’t help but look over at the tall blue-eyed man driving and think, “Wow! I get to be his wife!

God, you are too good to me!” Never did I think on that campout, we’d be getting married one year to the day later!

As for long-distance relationships, they can work. But remember, God has to be the author of the relationship for it to work. Let God write your love story. 

He’s the best Author I know!

Our Relationship - Part 1

What you are about to read is the no-holds-barred version from a previous post. I guest-blogged about this topic but was very limited with space so I had to cut out a great many details that make up any relationship story. :) So... in light of this week... 10 years ago we met... enjoy! 

 As a bit of disclosure, we did not write this story – God did. He has no relationship cookie-cutter or mold. He makes a new mold for every match He’s ever made.

If you doubt me, just read your copy of His Word! I love His creativity! Here’s just a few: Abram and Sarai, Jacob and Rachel, Adam and Eve, Isaac and Rebekah, David and Abigail, Boaz and Ruth, Salmon and Rahab… the list goes on! Each couple and their circumstances are so different and varied – a beautiful mosaic portraying Him.

A bit of background on us…

Mike grew up in a Christian family in West Michigan and went to Christian schools until college. It was as he was studying engineering and trying to explain and defend his beliefs to his roommates that he realized his faith wasn’t real. He began to study and dig and came to understand deeply what a Christ-follower’s life looks like. This changed everything about him!

I grew up in a pastor’s family. I was homeschooled (read: lived under a rock) most of my life except for a few years in public school. As a 10 year old in Awana, I came to see my need for Christ. I could not keep up the goody-two-shoes-pastors-daughter act forever. God certainly wouldn’t slide that card as payment for my sin. I’m so thankful that God has been changing me ever since!

On to the story!!

After college, Mike dated and proposed to his then girlfriend. While building his house, (our house now!) he realized that she was truly not God’s choice for him for multiple reasons. After breaking it off, he began to dive deep into his church. He started showing up to Saturday morning Men’s Prayer. He involved himself in the workings of his Sunday school class and planned activities. It was at one of those activities that we met. 

Meanwhile, I was graduating still very single from Moody Bible – I mean Bridal – Institute!  I said “I will never ….” to God about a few things and He made sure that I was good to go on those “nevers”. One was my goal to teach overseas and “not get stuck in the States!”  Yep, I landed at a Christian school in the suburbs of Illinois. I’d said that I’d never get stuck teaching at that particular school as well. I’d graduated from there via homeschool. Yep – chalk one up to the sovereignty of God!

So, I end up teaching 2^nd graders for three years and barely pay my bills during the year with nothing leftover for the summer months. I go to my fallback – the medical field. The dermatologist who usually hired me for the summer didn’t need anyone and I started to worry when the end of May was fast approaching with no job-leads in sight. In June, I finally got an interview and the office agreed to hire me – only to have them call back a week later that they’ve changed their mind. What?!! AND… this happened again with another office in July.

I cried out to God. Finding a job had always been a matter of simply getting an interview and wowing them with my resume. Not this time. Being turned away twice after they agreed to hire me was almost too much to take.

While teaching, I’d also been involved in the Deaf Ministry at my church interpreting for a 3 year old in her class. One Sunday after church, I went to lunch with a friend from the Deaf Ministry because, let’s face it, who wants to eat Sunday lunch alone?!  It was one of those connections that you begin talking as strangers and you end three hours later deeply understanding and feeling the connection between your histories.  It was awesome!

We became quite close. She had been praying with me about getting a job and in the middle of it all, her sister came to visit from Michigan. She and this guy Mike were planning a Campout for Young Adults. Turns out that my friend couldn’t go and I’d have to share a tent with her sister. It was the very weekend of my birthday and the shy stay-in-the-box introvert in me said “Are you nuts?! Go with someone you don’t know and stay somewhere you’ve never been with people you’ve never met on the weekend of your birthday?!”  The very idea was “un-Ruthlike”, but I thought about it and decided uncharacteristically that I would go. 

So we arrived and set up our supposed 2 Person tent (more like 2 skinny person tent – which we didn’t qualify for) but we made it work! She took me around and began to introduce me to everyone. I was beginning to just smile and nod at all the names to remember when everyone turned and laughed at this tall guy getting out of a boat. I didn’t know it then, but he was in such a hurry to meet me that he almost fell out of that boat!

A bunch of us went out on the lake for a sunset cruise and then later we gathered for a campfire. I felt very small and insignificant in this large crowd of people that obviously knew each other and were laughing and joking. I began to wish I’d just stayed home when that same tall guy came to sit in the open chair next to me. He began to ask question after question. I was just about to tell him what I thought of all his questions when I looked up and saw those blue eyes of his!  I completely lost all train of thought until he asked me another question and I managed to pick it up and go with it.

(You should know that I’d never been on a date before – part of that “under a rock thing” and I’d never had a guy be interested in me that wasn’t creepy. I’d had LOTS of crushes and hopes that were crushed. In college, it’d gotten so bad that I just asked God to make me oblivious. I’d rather not know “if he was THE one” until later when he asked me.) 

So… back to the campfire.

He continued to ask me more questions. I found out his name was Mike, but other than that, I don’t remember a whole lot except for those eyes. I even dismissed the whole conversation in my mind as crazy that he was just one of those talkative guys.

What I didn’t know until later was that night while I was slap-happy from sugar and caffeine, Mike was up praying about us. Did God want him to begin a long-distance relationship? Was I the girl God had for him? I didn’t get much sleep that night, but he didn’t either – for a much different reason.

God did a pretty good job with the oblivious prayer request because the whole next day Mike spent trying to get me to notice him. Several people commented to me that he was acting strange but again, I didn’t notice.

Going home, my friend’s sister said she was sure Mike liked me. 

I laughed.

Stay tuned for Part 2 tomorrow! 

A Letter to Myself of 9 years ago...

Dear Ruth,
Tonight as you celebrate your birthday and make the final preparations for your wedding tomorrow, here are some things to remember...

-The white runner is meaningless and unnecessary.
-Running across Holland in a frantic frenzy to pick up KFC for the rehearsal dinner is a good time to stop, take a deep breath and be present in the moment.
-Look deep into those blue, blue eyes that caught your attention 1 year ago and remember that no matter what you are in this together joined forever by God!
-Even when "She Thinks My Tractor's Sexy" is censored by the pastor, still enjoy the moment. :)
-Marriage isn't a journey for your happiness. It's a journey to be more like Jesus. That will mean a lot of things over the next 9 years, but know that very powerful and loving Hands are holding you tight through it all.
-FYI - your first night together is nothing compared to 9 years of learning each other! ;)
-Your convictions are not always a stiff as you think. Some are actually preferences. :)
-Savor the freedom of a childless midnight drift run in December as well as the quiet peace of camping together without 3 towheaded alarm clocks.
-Be ready to embrace the world through the eyes of a talkative 2 year old little girl! Be impressed with every "find" that little boys bring to show you - every bug, snake, and worm.
-You will find yourself shocked at how your heart will feel full to bursting with love for your man as he bends down to play and pretend with those little people.
-Encourage him and remind him how much you are thankful for what he does - not just on silly Hallmark holidays, but every single day of your life together.
-When you're looking for ministry advice, he has more to offer than you think. Following it will save you a buttload of trouble.
-Love and be present in every moment - no matter how loud or inconvenient. It will be gone in the blink of an eye.
-Your children will mirror your issues, but no amount of talking and lecturing will change them. They're looking for an example to follow - good or bad. Give them Jesus.

I know, it's a lot to remember... but the next 9 years will be easier if you do. :)

Now, get back to that rehearsal! Oh... and don't be surprised if your father and his father skip down the aisle during the ceremony. 

Sincerely,
Yourself - a bit older and wiser.