A Great Romance

Valentine’s Day. To some it is a much anticipated, wonderful day. To others, it can be the worst kind. Everyone has an opinion of this Hallmark holiday. KP and I aren’t too keen on it. We do exchange cards and he usually gets me flowers. We save our “date” for another, less crowded night. I’d attribute that to age, but we’ve done so since we were just out of college. It’s just not our thing.

Nevertheless, on this day I can’t help but think a bit about our life romance, to take a look at this man I’m tied to and evaluate our relationship. KP and I have been an item for over 14 years. Just typing that number amazes me. Some days it seems like yesterday that I first laid eyes on him. My heart still skips a beat at the thought.

But then I look at pictures of us from that time. And I look at the man next to me. I look in the mirror. And I see that time has certainly progressed. We have two children, two cars, and a mortgage. Now I know that to some readers, making it to our 10^th year of marriage with 5 years of dating before that isn’t much. Yet to others it may seem a long while indeed.

I will be honest with you. I adore my husband. But you see I don’t think of KP as my soul mate. Everyone is entitled to an opinion, but I just think the world is too big to say we have one soul mate. Just because we happened to both be born in this country and to attend the same college doesn’t make KP the only man on this earth for me.  I am also able to function without my husband. This is because my being is not wrapped up in his. He is my husband, and I love him. But he does not define me. I am my own person. And to be frank, if I am not well with myself I cannot be of much help to anyone else, him included.

All of this doesn’t mean we don’t have a great romance. I’m just not sure it aligns with the standards set by our culture. I think what defines our union is not our love for each other, but our decision to love one another. There is a marked difference here. When we started out, the feelings of love were overwhelming, the whole “I saw fireworks” thing in full effect. But time changes things. Life changes things. I’m not saying that is totally gone. It’s not. But it’s mainly replaced with something that grows deeper each year. As we make the choice to love one another with our words and our deeds, our marriage strengthens.

We still have years to come. I know there will be good times, and I know there will be bad times. That’s about all I know for sure. But if there’s one thing I’ve experienced thus far, it’s that choosing to love one another through them has its rewards. Those small decisions form the cornerstone of our great romance.

Happy Valentine’s Day.

To My Cloud of Witnesses

This morning, I had the great pleasure to read the following at all three services at Roswell Presbyterian Church. We are in the midst of a sermon series called Modern Family. Today's sermon was "A Challenge for Women," preached by my dear friend The Reverend Lyndsay Lee Slocum. I was honored to share in the same hour with her message. 

When given the task to write a thank you note to someone who has impacted my faith, I spent some time reflecting. So many moments, so many people came to mind. And I realized that God sent, continues to send, and will keep on sending a great multitude to keep me pressing onward. Not just one. I can’t just thank one. And so….

To My Cloud of Witnesses,

It is with humble gratitude that I write to you in regards to what you have done for my faith journey. Many of you I do not know. Some I don’t remember. Some I’ve yet to meet. Many I won’t meet until my time here on Earth is complete. But some of you I can thank.

To my mother, prayer warrior and my father, student of the Word, you gave me the tools to start my journey.

To Brad, Christy, Shawn, Matt, Jenn, and Jen, you were more than youth leaders. You were constants in a tumultuous time. You were witnesses to the faith by simply being present. I can’t remember much of what you said. It’s what you did that stands out.

To the women of this church, at all ages and stages of life. You walk alongside me in my journey, so many of you inspiring me as you keep the incredible legacy of this place alive.

To my husband, you have continually challenged me to better understand what I believe and why so that I can share with you. Watching your faith grow leaves me with no doubt that our God is a powerful pursuer of his beloved.

To my daughters. You are still new on your journeys but you teach me daily about real faith, true and pure.

And to the rest of you. Thank you for keeping on. For running the race. For prayers, for words, for hugs, for inspiration.

My faith journey is not traveled alone. Nor is it over until my Maker says so. I am continually learning, stumbling, rising, soaring. My cloud of witnesses is vital to this. To those seen and unseen. To those known and unknown. For each of you, I am eternally grateful.

In Christ,

Laura

Blessings Flow

      The time of year has come to pause and give thanks. Recently, I accepted the challenge to think of ten blessings in my life that didn’t involve anything material. The speaker giving the challenge noted that it would be harder than it seemed. He referred to his own attempt at the exercise as one riddled with his wants, more than his blessings. Trying to clear his mind of material desires made that list grow ever longer.

      So over the past week I took the time to reflect on my blessings. There are so many this year that I could think of: my husband’s job, our warm and comfortable home, our mission trip this summer to Guatemala. Yet all of these are a result of material blessings. I’m not saying they’re not worth being thankful for. But they’re not what I’m after.

      I did some more thinking, additional pondering and a few prayers for perspective. Today I sat down and started jotting them down. And wouldn’t you know they flowed like blessings can. From my grateful heart to the page:

1)   My Father in heaven and his Son, Jesus Christ who saves my wretched soul daily from the mess I make of life.

2)   My loving, hard-working, devoted husband.

3)   My two beautiful daughters, precious creations I am privileged to be raising.

4)   Family that loves, supports and encourages me.

5)   Friends and neighbors who expand that family ever larger.

6)   My church. Not the building itself but the family therein.

7)   The health and safety that is undeservedly bestowed upon myself and my loved ones daily.

8)   The gifts God has given me to help spread His love.

9)   My brief stint on Earth, as a woman living in the 21^st century in a free and modern society.

10) The faith, hope and love that, through God's grace, swells from my soul.

      Was that so hard? No, it was embarrassingly easy. Taken from a book AP likes to read called Grateful, by John Bucchino, I am “truly blessed, and duly grateful.”

Happy Thanksgiving to you and yours.

Hindsight

      I am now an aunt. To be fair, I have 5 nieces and nephews on my husband’s side and I love them all. But recently my sister had her first child, a son. This event gave me the opportunity to travel across the country to be with them. I went to offer my help, my encouragement, and (hard to believe) my wisdom. As a mother of two young children, I have some real world experience on the subject of babies.

      So I headed out there, and got down to it. I played several roles while there, including but not limited to: chef, nanny, maid, butler, personal assistant and court jester. True, I was there to meet my nephew, but I was also there to help my sister navigate her new life. Or at least to survive its beginning.

      What I realized through it all is that I could do all the above jobs and still have time to watch old reruns with my sister while she nursed. I could nap, read, and go for a run. I could do all of that in my sleep and still have time to spare. Meanwhile, my sister needed nothing but sleep. We were in two very different places.

      Nearly five years after I started this journey of parenthood, I realize how much I’ve adjusted to. I now see my sister’s place as a parent of one small baby as a breeze. Her son can’t talk back, he can’t throw a tantrum, and he stays in one place. When I was there, his cry sounded more like a whimper. My house these days sounds like a three-ring circus. I am surrounded by squeals, giggles and sibling squabbles. Every time I turn around, I’m wiping up a spill, taking someone to the potty, or convincing someone to take “just one more bite.” For me, the visit to help my sister was like a mini vacation. Even with the chores.

      However, my sister didn’t see it that way. She is living the seemingly insurmountable life of a new mother: that sleep-deprived place where you are aware of the harsh reality that life will never be the same. Yes, having a child is a blessed event. It’s beautiful and amazing. It’s also ugly, scary, and confining. She needed someone there who remembers that, someone with hindsight to hold her hand through the first few weeks.

     I feel overwhelmingly blessed to be in that position. It once again shows me how God uses our experiences to work in the lives of others. Not to mention our own. At the time, my sister was in that place where she wasn’t sure she’d make it through. The thing is, she will. And what’s more, she’ll probably do it again. That’s what we do. We willingly throw ourselves into the great adventure called parenthood again and again.

     You know that cliché all older people say to parents with young children? It’s a variation of “enjoy these moments, it goes by so quickly.”  Sometimes I see these people and think, okay, take them. Take my snotty, whining, bratty kids. But this is what’s funny. I watched my sister nursing her newborn son, and found myself saying just that. I can’t get back those sweet moments with newborn AP or MP. They are gone. All I can do is move forward, enjoying the new, amazing things my children do each day. And in the meantime, I sure can take time to hold my new nephew while my sister catches a nap.

A New View

 

The last several weeks I’ve done more living than reflecting. I traveled for a variety of reasons and the time in between trips was hectic. But I took notes and now I am pleased to present a series on my adventures.
After a week with a virus that really got me down I felt a need for a change of scenery. Now that I’m a mom of two I can’t just hop in the car and take off. Well I could but I’d have to be back after lunch to get MP from preschool. So when KP said he needed to head in town to handle something at the office I hitched a ride. Now I’m in the lobby of a midtown high rise eating a sweet potato pancake. My view consists of glass and light and a perfectly still rock pool. And the pancake is scrumptious.

           Here’s the difference. Yesterday afternoon I was pulling through the Chick-fil-A drive thru with two young children, after a haircut for them both and before a stop at the high school junior varsity football game to watch one of my teenagers cheer. Today I’m sitting alone in this beautiful space. All around me people are going about their lives. A group of young guys in plaid shirts hover around a MacBook, discussing a proposal of some sort. Men and women in business attire pass through the lobby. Traffic rushes by. But for me, a respite in the middle of the city feels right.

I chose to stay home with my children. And I know I won’t – and already don’t- regret the decision. But every now and then I need to recharge. Sometimes it’s with nature. And sometimes it’s not. Today I’m right where I want to be.

I think we all need to remember that there are times when we just need to walk away from it all. I’m not talking about life-altering changes. This isn’t a plea for you to march into your boss’s office and resign, or to pack up and travel the world (although for some it might be what you need). I simply mean a breather. With school in session your next vacation may be a while off.  But that doesn’t mean you can’t do something out of the ordinary. For those who work full time at a desk, a day away from the computer will do you wonders. For those who live with the land, a visit to the city, a museum, or the theater may give you the rest you need. You could cook a new meal, try out a new park for your run, or call up someone you haven’t spoken with in a while. A break from the usual is good for all of us.

            Today I grabbed my chance. It will be brief, I admit. KP will be here any moment. But the beauty of it is that I’ll make it back in time for school to let out.

Road Trip

     Lately I feel like a common topic keeps coming up. How do we know what God wants us to do? How do we find our path? Today even, I heard someone speaking on how we can discern whether something really is of God. This can certainly be hard. And it seems everyone has an answer. The world says if it feels good, it must be okay. Or find happiness, that's what matters. Some claim that if you serve others, even at the expense of yourself, you've done the right thing. Others believe in nose to the grindstone, barely looking up long enough to live. Many of us are somewhere in the middle of these philosophies. Then we throw the phrase "God's will" into the pile and the result is pretty messy.
     But in the midst of this attempt at discernment, there comes a time when you know for sure you are where you ought to be. For me, these times become clear by the feeling that everything else I've gone through has brought me to here. It's almost as if I didn't have a choice. Oh, don't get me wrong. I made plenty of detours along the way, but in the end I still got there. 
     Now that school is back in session, I have the great honor of spending one evening a week with a truly special group of young ladies. They can't drive (alone) yet, and they can't vote. They haven't been to college and they haven't worked a nine to five job. They still live at home and can't stay out too late at night. They are fifteen. Officially, I am their leader. I have signed on to guide them along their faith journey for the next few years. But week after week, I come away learning something new from them.
     And here comes that feeling. Everything else I've done in life, every mountain and every valley, led me here. For this brief moment in time, we are walking this walk together. I have the life experience and they have the fresh perspective. The result allows the Spirit to move and work in ways that humble me to my knees.
     Today in church, my pastor used two of our international mission destinations as examples in his sermon. I have been to both as a member. I sat there, next to three of the girls who I took with me to Guatemala this summer, and I knew I am where I'm meant to be. What I usually look at as individual events in my life become threads woven into my journey. Today the examples were physical places, which works perfectly with my whole road metaphor above. For these physical journeys truly did alter my life forever. But I also realized that amongst the big moments, there have been so many small ones. My life experiences, the gentle nudging of the spirit and a response of yes to God's voice, have brought me to where I am. He so perfectly shapes the path for us that when we look back we realize we were never really lost. We were never wandering hopelessly. He was building a bridge, paving a road, filling up our tank. He was patiently cheering us on.
     My journey isn't over. I know that down the road I'll look back and see how this group of girls changed me. How it changed them. How it propelled us to the next part of our individual journeys. For now, I'm just grateful I've been given a glimpse of the work that God is doing with my life thus far. He really does take my mess and use it to perfect the masterpiece He calls humanity.

After the Storm

     Over the past week, many of us in the southeastern quadrant of the country watched Hurricane Isaac make its way through the Gulf. Even though I'm not on the coast anymore, growing up in Florida, I'm hardwired to keep alert of dangerous weather. Less than a week since the twenty year anniversary of Hurricane Andrew, I took some time to think about the event and its aftermath.
     I don't think there is anyone who was living in South Florida at that time who doesn't remember vividly the night Andrew made landfall. The center of the storm was headed straight for our area, but made a last minute jog south and hit Homestead, FL. My family stayed up together in one room, watching a small battery powered television. My sister and I had leaks in our windows, our chimney suffered damage, but we made it out okay. For those further south, much more was lost. The damage done over that one night took years to repair. Looking back now, I can't help but see how one storm changed the course of my own history.
     That winter, my church youth group was supposed to go to skiing. Instead, we housed a group our age from Michigan and together we spent a week in Homestead working with displaced migrant families and repairing damaged homes. My first experience in the mission field prepared my heart for the future. It was a springboard for more local mission work as well as my involvement in global missions as an adult. Now, I'm not saying I wouldn't have a heart for missions if Andrew hadn't hit South Florida. God always provides a way to where He wants us. But the storm shaped my path.
     It also brought me one of my dearest friends. Andrew hit the weekend before my first day of high school. Afterwards, schools in surrounding areas saw an influx of students who were displaced from Homestead. One boy and his family made the move to our district and we became friends. We've remained so ever since. We attended college together and I'd often give him a ride home for holidays. My mom always felt better about those trips with him in the car. When I went through my first break up, he was there to make me laugh again. We kept in touch after college and now he is a family friend. My children call him uncle. If Andrew hadn't hit we may have never met.
     Another uprooted family moved in down the street from mine. At the time, their son was four and their daughter barely a year. I became their Saturday night babysitter. For the first year, I often had to stay with A until he was nearly asleep because he was afraid another hurricane would come in the night. I watched him grow out of that. I also watched him grow into a caring, intelligent kid. When his sister J was around 3, she had to have surgery. I went over to see her and several local family members were there. She started crying and her grandmothers went to her side. But she was calling for me. I realized that to this little girl, I was part of her family. Moments like this have prompted me as a parent to create a community for my children that extends beyond biological ties; to put people in their lives that will comfort and shape them. One of my top priorities when I was pregnant with AP was to find a babysitter. Leaving your children with people you trust has benefits for the children as well as for the foundation of a family - the marriage. My husband and I still get to date, and that is invaluable. 
     I do want to point out that I did not live through the destruction of my home. I never had to leave my possessions and hope everything was okay when I was allowed to return. I didn't see all my memories destroyed by wind and water. I am not trying to say that a hurricane is a good thing. What I am saying is that in life we will encounter storms of all kinds. Some are bigger than others. Out of them, we learn, we grow, we are changed. I am reminded of Deuteronomy 31:8, which says "The Lord himself goes before you and will be with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged." During Andrew, God was still there. He was working in the midst of the madness. Twenty years later, the beautiful results in my life remain.