What a Difference a Year Makes!

As I was digging through our pc's folders for a particular file, I came across a video made in late Spring, 2008. I usually make one each Spring, and have yet to do that this year. So, obviously, finding this was a bittersweet event; yes, I got to watch it again but, yes, I have now added yet another item to my to-do list. Grrr...
But I digress...Watching the video again left me marveling at the difference a year makes. These frames reminded me that we had recently delivered Judsen. Grace looked much more little girl than big girl, and Elijah still had a ton of curls. Sigh...where did they all go? And the last frame brought tears to my eyes: we were in Alaska when that shot was taken. We had suffered a miscarriage just three weeks prior. We were celebrating a beloved friend's marriage. We felt both great pain and great elation. But seeing that picture felt most like a blow to the heart because it reminded me of the turmoil we bore as we grappled with the questions, "What are You doing, God? Are You even who we thought You were?"
Of course, we didn't know then that Judsen was already growing within me, and the fruit of His plan was just a bud of life, existing totally unaware to us. I wonder what God saw when we took that picture: I'm certain He knew our grief. I'm positive He knew of the life to come. I'm confident He was willing us to just keep going, despite our weakness, and most definitely in spite of our pain. He sent a miracle to set us free of our loss.

Indeed...what a difference that year made.

Honey, this is a lot of work!

We have some really fabulous couples at Vanguard. No, I mean really fabulous. Craig and I love to hear their stories of loss and gain; of failure and triumph; of agreement and disagreement; of faith, of hope, and of love. They're all valuable, all worthwhile. And the more of them we are privileged to meet, the more we are encouraged about marriage.
Marriage is a lot of work. This is a truth akin to the sky is blue, grass is green, what goes up must come down...But this is also a reminder that we sometimes see the forest and not the tree. Is that enough euphemisms for you?
Well, let me put it another way: in our Married Life gathering at Vanguard (about 30 of us - or 15 couples - are meeting weekly to talk, share, and pray about the topics of marriage that are prevalent in relationship today), last week's theme was, "Honey, this is a lot of work!" And, of course, the conversation was great as we remembered the early days of marriage and compared them to what we know now about the effort this pivotal relationship requires. But, as I've been pondering that topic over the last few days, I've come to a realization: maybe it's not a lot of work, so much as it's a lot of awareness.
Over nearly 13 years of my marriage, I've grown aware that the work is what's happening while you're living in relationship together: it's not the focus you're centering on throughout the day-to-day of life. When I'm coordinating childcare for the umpteenth time and wondering if we should just skip the date altogether, I'm not thinking about the work of marriage, per Se. Rather, I'm thinking about the childcare, the date, the time it takes to coordinate both. But when we're on the date, I'm blissfully aware of my extraordinary husband, not to mention how incredibly fortunate I am to have this marriage, this life. Quite frankly, the same is true of other aspects of marriage, too; namely friendships, parenting, sex, money, time, and on and on.
John Lennon wrote the line, "Life is what happens while you're busy making other plans." Well, maybe the work of marriage is what happens while you're busy living life...the married life. And maybe accepting that perspective allows us to shift our mindsets from, "Honey, this is a lot of work!" to "Honey, this sure is a good life."

I wonder what our marriages would be like then?

So I have this one friend...

Ha! Fooled you, didn't I? I realize that a sentence birthed with these 6 fearsome words can go many directions...and ain't none of 'em good, you know what I mean? Case in three points:
1. "So I have this friend and she told me recently she has inappropriate attractions." (Bad)
2. "So I have this friend and she told me recently she was attracted to my husband." (Worse)
3. "So I have this friend and she told me recently she was attracted to me." (Um....what?!)
But this time this introductory phrase bears no such lamentation; rather, it references a friend who, upon reading this very post, is already laughing out loud...probably in some totally inappropriate timing or space, if history proves correct.
My friend is loud. She is not for the faint of heart. She is loud and not for the faint of heart because she's bursting with a passion for life and the love of Jesus Christ.
My friend is audacious. She is not for the timid and secretive. She is audacious and not for the timid and secretive because she believes in being true to whom God's made you to be, without reservation or shame or fear.
My friend is brilliant. She is not for the dim-witted who would rather hide from risk than go beyond themselves to embrace the world. She is not for the dim-witted who are unwilling to risk because, despite disadvantages and obstacles, she has risen above to become a compassionate, loyal servant to her beloveds.
My friend belongs to Jesus. She belongs to her husband. She belongs to her daughter and also to her son. And she belongs to me. And, if you're blessed to meet her, she could belong to you, too.
My friend is an example to me. My friend is my favorite bee.
I thank God for her.

Um, did I say that already?

It's occured to me that I repeat myself daily. "What's that?" you say, "You're just now realizing you repeat yourself, repeat yourself?" I snicker and guffaw: Yes! I'm only now realizing there are directions, instructions, euphemisms, and (sad to say) even a few rants that I should just post throughout the house so I may quickly point rather than quip. Here's just a few of the assortment:

What do you want for breakfast?

Mullins, (the dog) get out from under my feet!

Get your thumb out of your mouth.

Where's the baby?

Yes, you may.

No, you may not.

What do you want for lunch?

Covak's? (answering the phone)

Please don't waller me.

Mullins, get out from under my feet!

Huh?

Yes, you may.

Covak's?

Get your thumb out of your mouth.

Where's your brother?

Put that down.

Pick that up.

Love you!

Covak's?

Huh?

Thank you!

I don't know.

Mullins, get out from under my feet!

No, you may not.

What do you want for snack?

Please don't waller me.

Covak's?

Huh?

I don't know.

Mullins, get out from under my feet!

Put that down.

Pick that up.

love you!

Covak's?

Huh?

What do you want for dinner?

Put that down.

Covak's?

Covak's?

Covak's? (notice the phone is busiest as I'm making dinner).

Get your thumb out of your mouth.

thank you!

It is what it is.

I love my life!

"What are we having for dinner tonight?"

Elijah asks me this question every day. Every day! It makes me cringe, it does. It turns a smile upside down. It's the reason my forehead has a crease between my eyebrows. And it has the SAME answer EVERY night..."I don't know." Even if I DO know, I say I DON'T know...simply because I've neither the time nor the energy to answer it.

The time between 3:30 and 5 is painful at my house. Everyone in it needs something of me, from me. The whole world phones me. The clouds open up and pour rain upon me. It's when the dog yarfs on the tile, a solicitor knocks on the door, and the baby throws his snack on the floor. I could cry. I often do whine. And when it's all said and done, dinner's on the table, and the next question inevitably arises: "Mommy, why do you make this? I don't like it!"

Hm-mm. That's a question for a different day.

Who's the Boss?

Kelly's message today at church was about bosses; namely, he queried, "How do you behave respectfully to your boss?" These types of Sundays have a strange vibe to me: our worship pastor is away on tour (yeah, on tour...how wild is that?), so we have a fill-in who's fabulous in his own right, don't get me wrong. But he's not Fike, and Fike is the regular. I mean, have we met? I'm the epitome of anal-retentive and, when you take my regular regimen away, you've left me naked and bald. Don't worry, I cope on the inside so I appear sunny on the outside.

Anyway, I'm in this strange vibe already and here comes this message. Now I don't have a boss. No, that's not entirely true. I do have a boss. But in the world of freelance writing and editing and teaching as part of the Adjunct Faculty, my bosses are not folks I see each day as I sip Starbucks in a meeting or talk "Lost" at the water cooler. I like it that way, quite frankly, since I'm already at full capacity (and, some days, then some) with my plate of relationships.
So I'm listening to Kelly and thinking the typical meanderings: "Hmmm....I'll have to think about that." "Funny guy." "Um, that's not a word." "Um, that's not even English..." Well, you get the drift. And then it hits me: I DO have a boss. I DO, I DO, I DO! Now, this choice of words is ironic because they're the reason I have a boss....you see, Craig is my boss.

Now, listen ladies, don't get your hackles up just yet! Though I could argue Scripture with ya and even debate the emotional and spiritual "economics" of this position, let me just say: You don't have to agree, believe, or certainly prescribe to my way of thinking. But it works for me.
Each day I have a mission to live out, tasks to achieve, atmospheres to create. To whom am I accountable? It would be most spiritual for me to say God, that's true. And I do believe that, live for that, and otherwise strive for that. Yet, on a flesh level, the truth is I'm responsible to Craig. Just as I expect him to provide, to cover, to protect us, he expects I will nurture, construct, navigate, and love us as Christ loves His church.

I'm not afraid to have this boss: his love is the greatest salary out there; his provision offers the best health care and benefits package; my life with him is my guaranteed retirement; and, through our children, he's given the best support team and little flock of ducklings I could imagine. I do respect my boss: he's earned it, for sure. And I genuinely like my boss: I guess all that helps me realize I love my job, too.

Another Blessing in a Wee Bottle

In many ways, Elijah is my most enriching child. Similarly, he is also my most challenging. I'm so unlike him, really: in every way from gender to temperament to personality, we are living in two strikingly different pea pods. But his laugh is contagious. His impish smile reminds me of light and hope and simply not taking it all so seriously. His mischief-making can pain me; yet, it furthers my knowledge that exploration of the world is how you become a strong leader. And, sometimes, when you error by following the wrong example, you also learn how to recognize the right one. And often when I ask him, "What were you thinking?" I feel I'm asking God the same question. His reply always gently comes to me in Elijah's cuddling, chunky arms as he hugs and kisses me to announce, "You're the best mommy ever!" And I think, "Yes, I am blessed, indeed!"