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Praying Without Hope

Posted in Love, Marriage, The Hubby, WONDER, tagged #hopethatisseenisnohopeatall, #prayingwithouthope, #seasonsofmarriage, #thewinterofmarriage, Marriage on September 19, 2017| 1 Comment »

spirit

The vehicle was filled with the sounds of a baseball game. Barely a word spoken for dozens of miles. Contentment filled my heart, my soul.

I remembered hearing my grandmother say that a good marriage is one where a couple can drive in a car for miles and the silence be comfortable.

Numerous times over previous years, driving in the same direction, on the same highway, with the same baseball team playing on the radio, barely a word spoken for dozens of miles …

but my heart was filled with the emptiness of discontent.

The silence so uncomfortable.

The seasons in a marriage, like the seasons in the northern hemisphere, can be such a contrast, one from another. The sunny summer days can seem like endless picnics, cookouts and sweet days at the beach.

But the storms of winter can rage, blowing out electricity, and snowing you in, torrential rains causing permanent water damage.

I remember one such winters day in our marriage when we drove this very route, and I had prayed (with little investment of hope) for a miracle for our marriage. Truly it was a last ditch, faith-lacking prayer.

We had reached the point that, though we did still love each other (in a covenant-commitment manner of love), neither one of us liked or had affection for each other.

Why would I share such weakness, such imperfection?

Because I believe that heartache and suffering just have to have purpose outside of personal growth. If telling our story resonates in the heart and experience of another who is trying to protect themselves from the wintery blizzards of marriage, then I can look back and be thankful in all circumstances.

This is marriage … real marriage. Though we go to the alter and make promises in clean, perfectly altered attire, we live in the sandbox of reality. It’s not clean, or pretty, nor does it always fit. We all have these winters in our marriages … not one is perfect, not one is a bed of summery roses every day.

As we, wordlessly, comfortably drove that same highway, one night this summer, I felt the gentle, fresh breeze of summer evening coming into the windows of our car.

Suddenly, I realized that the comfortable silence we were surrounded by was the miracle of my hope-lacking prayer of years past …

when the season was not so gentle to our relationship, and we were not so gentle to each other.

The hopeless had been reborn, redeemed through the groaning of the Spirit, when we were weak, and did not know (feel) in our hearts that hope that was available.

“hope that is seen is no hope at all.
Who hopes for what they already have? But if we hope for what we do not yet have,
we wait for it patiently.
In the same way, the Spirit helps us in our weakness.
We do not know what we ought to pray for,
but the Spirit himself intercedes for us
through wordless groans.”
Romans 8:24-26

(Image above Lawton Wilson)

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Getting a HANDle on Aging-Repost

Posted in life, Love, The Hubby, The Kids, WONDER, tagged Aging, Beauty, hands, laugh lines, Life, lotions, Love, rough skin, touch, Wrinkles on July 28, 2017| 3 Comments »

I just realized that I hadn’t posted yesterday!
I have been hard at work (avoiding) preparing a message for this weekend (on aging!!).
So, in lieu of a belated new post, here is my contribution, from over five years ago.
Now to get a handle on this message …

Although I am only thirty-nine (with four years experience) I am becoming more acquainted with aging, and it’s changes each and every day.

There are some changes that come with ‘time passing on’ (this is hubby’s way of referring to aging) that I quite like.

I love the lines that are forming just outside of the corners of my mouth, and my eyes, because they are evidence to smiles and laughs. I may not remember every individual event that caused my face to smile, but the lines will never hide that joy has filled my days.

I love that I have been plucking my eyebrows for so many years that the hairs almost never re-grow anymore.

I love that I do not have to concern myself with pimples, other than the odd one or two.

I love that, because my hair is … silvering … I have a natural excuse to become an even more blond, and I now have a number(s) to identify and define my hair color 😉

There are also some changes that have occurred that I do not favor so much.

I do not like that my knees have decided I need to pay more attention to them, and they attain my attention in the most uncomfortable of ways.

I do not like that some foods that I ingest want to burn themselves into my memory (or at least into my esophagus).

I definitely do not like the anticipation of body parts migrating in a southerly direction.

But, I especially do not like that the appearance of my hands is changing.

The famous, all-knowing ‘they’ say that the way to most accurately guess the age of woman, you need to only to glance at her neck or her hands.

As each year passes, I have noticed subtle changes happening in my hands, that I am not so happy about. The lines in them are deepening. They need constant re-hydration from rich lotions. I seem to have lost the ability to grown my fingernails to even the slightest length, without their splintering. There seems to be more skin, as it is losing it’s youthful elasticity. They sometimes even ache … but it is their appearance that is more disheartening to me.

It is a frequent occurrence that I glance at my hands, and have no idea whose hands they are. They surely cannot be mine, because mine do not look so … so … aged. Then I realize they move when and where I will them, and so they truly are my own.

Maybe the changes in them bother me, because my hands were the body part(s) that I actually liked about myself. Maybe I thought I would be immune to the normal, natural results of ‘time moving on.’

All that said, maybe the wrinkles, the lines, the shorter nails and the loosening skin are all characteristics of hands that have been held by generations before me, that have held on to the children I gave birth to, that have made meals for those I love, that have held the hands of people readying for eternity, that have written or typed words of encouragement, that have touched the shoulder of one carrying the weight of the world, that have folded in an act of pray, that have been kissed by the man of my life, that will one day be taken by my Redeemer as He welcomes me into eternity.

Maybe they are like the laugh lines I so adore on my face. Maybe they are the lines of hands that have loved, and been loved in return.

So, I’ll keep slathering rich lotions onto them, so that, although they will be marked by the lines of time, they will still be welcoming to the touch of those who need a hand.

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The Expected or the Exceptional?

Posted in Marriage, WONDER, tagged #expectedorexceptional, #heygirl, #honour, #mylady, #ryangoslinggoldenglobes, Marriage on January 10, 2017| Leave a Comment »

My Sunday evening was interrupted by Twitter:

“a beautiful speech shows great character in a man”

“Attractive, smart & so generous to his partner”

“was beautiful to acknowledge the sacrifice of others to follow your dream”

“Hey girl” has been officially replaced with “my lady”

I was hooked, and had to uncover why social media was so enamoured with the acceptance speech of Ryan Gosling at the Golden Globe awards.

“You don’t get to be up here without standing on the shoulders of a mountain of people … while I was singing and dancing and playing piano and having one of the best experiences I’ve ever had, on a film, my lady was raising our daughter, pregnant with our second and trying to help her brother fight his battle with cancer. If she hadn’t taken all that on so that I could have this experience, it would surely be someone else up here, other than me, today, so, sweetheart, thank-you.”

sigh …

swoon …

Then I pondered, what was really so exceptional about the words of Mr. Gosling? After all, all he did was acknowledge that his success was not his alone, but thanks to the efforts and commitment of his wife, to him, his success, their children, and her brother.

Isn’t what he did, what should be expected of us all?

romans-129-10

Perhaps, his words, his public deflection of his success being from his own merits, is exceptional because celebrities rarely stoop to such humility?

Or, perhaps, his words, deflecting his own honour, by honouring his partner in life, is exceptional because we humans, as a whole, rarely stoop to such humility?

Our world is one of individual goals, devices, efforts and successes. But our human race is created for community, mutuality, and inter-dependence. We need each other.

We need to honour each other, and our reliance on those around us, in all that we do.

This is not exceptional (or shouldn’t be), it’s expected of us all.

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Here Comes the …

Posted in Love, Marriage, WONDER, tagged #forthisreason, #herecomesthe, #imperfectandmessyandbeautiful, #motherofthe, Marriage on September 27, 2016| Leave a Comment »

Holding on to the arm of a handsome man, she took her first step through the doors of the sanctuary, smiling from ear to ear, and every eye was on her. Her dress fell to the floor, and she moved down the aisle with ease and with a playful joy in her steps. She glowed from the inside out.

For the first time in my life, it was she, the mother-of-the-bride, to whom I could most closely feel a connection.

And NO, my daughters are not getting married!

The rest of the wedding and reception festivities continued, but those steps down the aisle, by the bride’s mom, were what captivated my the most. Not only did they captivate me, but I felt a kinship with this mom.

With our youngest in his final year of high school, and our daughters in the post secondary educational stage and beyond, I am closer to the mom stage than the bride stage.

As this mom was making her way down the aisle, I wondered if the marriage was everything that she had wanted for her daughter? Was the groom the man she had hoped to steal her girly’s heart? Was her daughter in the ‘right’ place in life to be making such promises?

Then I realized what this marriage was …

imperfect and messy and beautiful,

no doubt, just like that mom’s, just like my own.

The dreams I have for my children are good dreams, well intended hopes, desires that come from the heart of one whose heartbeat was the first music in my children’s ears.

But, one day, they may choose to marry, and it will be their dreams, their hopes and their desires that will send me walking down an aisle … not mine.

This is not to say that I cease to pray for the greater things for them … that they marry one who loves God, that they unite with one who will share all of life with them, that they choose a partner who will encourage them to grow and live better (as iron sharpens iron), but I acknowledge that, like their parents before them, they will make that choice.

And it will be imperfect, and messy, and beautiful.

“For this reason, a man (a daughter) will leave their mother and father …”
(Mark 10:7)

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The Purpose Driven Road Less Travelled

Posted in Marriage, The Hubby, WONDER, tagged #goingittogether, #roadtrips, #thepurposedrivenroadlesstravelled, #travellingwithyourspouse on September 8, 2016| Leave a Comment »

Might be good better adjusted further

As a kickstart to summer, hubby and I took a road trip to visit dear friends.

On this trip we learned something new about each other.

Hubby likes to take the road less travelled, whereas I desire a more purpose driven trip.

As we travelled, hubby loved the meandering country roads, in the valley of a mountain range. Periodically encountering farm vehicles, who we would need to wait patiently behind, until a safe location spot in the road availed passing the slow moving vehicles.

I, on the other hand, yearned for the three (or four) lane highways, on which good time could be made, and progress toward our goal of reaching our friendly destination would be achieved.

In the middle of summer we took another trip, across the state of Washington, from West to East (from the coast to the desert … in August! But, that is a story for another day). For hubby, our destination was the reason for the trip. For myself, it was the mountain highway vistas that had my interest peeked.

Were I driving, we would have stopped at every pull off, to see all that we could see.

Hubby, on the other hand, just wanted to reach our destination, as soon as possible.

For this trip, it was I who desired the road less travelled, and he who wanted purpose-driven travels.

Then, last weekend, we packed up and pointed the vehicle south, to the Oregon Coast. This is our favourite vacation destination, and the trip was entirely a purpose-driven one, from north to south to north again. The only roads less travelled were in and around the area where we stayed.

Through our individual and combined responses, these road trips have shown me something about our years together.

It doesn’t matter which road we take.

There have been times when one of us is heading in a very specific direction, and it’s full boar ahead, whereas the other just goes along for the ride. Sometimes the driver is reversed. Then there are the times when we have both been intent to get to our destination, redeeming the time to get there.

What matters is that we are heading to the same destination.

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Happily Ever After

Posted in Love, Marriage, WONDER, tagged #happilyeverafter, #itsnevertoolatetolivehappilyeverafter, #marriagetiltheend, #reallifemarriage on June 21, 2016| Leave a Comment »

That common, dreamy, fairy tale ending …

“… and they lived happily ever after.”

As little girls, we were read such stories.

As we grew up, we hoped for our own happily-ever-after futures.

As adults, we sometimes wonder if we will ever get such an ending, or we simply wonder how our life can seem more like existence in the dungeon than living comfortably in the castle.

The thing is, the fairy tales we read are just that, fairy tales. They are not really real, nor do they reveal the rest of the story.

Wouldn’t it be great to find out what Cinderella thought of her mother-in-law? Or how Sleeping Beauty and the Prince survived their colicky babes? Or what Snow White thought of rarely seeing her dwarf friends, because she had royal subjects to tend to first. Or, maybe the prince, from Beauty and the Beast, let his inner beast out making Belle wonder why she ever trusted him?

These dreamy stories last only long enough to whet our romantic appetites, leaving our real lives to sometimes feel like we are thirsting in the desert, rather than drinking from the fountain of love.

“… and they lived happily ever after”

How do we achieve happily ever after in the real world, in real life?

Well … bad news,

as there is no guarantee, there is no formula, and there is no fairy godmother who can wave a wand and create a magical spell to fall upon your reality horror-program-like life.

Marriage is life in the trenches of expectations, dirty diapers, sleepless nights, impossible schedules, difficult times with teens and more bills to pay than pay coming in. Add to that PMS, stress, health issues, and you have a cauldron bubbling with more stank than Shrek ever had in the swamp!

A happily ever after ending does have a common foundation, though. It is that the beginning and the middle anticipate that the ending comes at the end … the end of life as we know it. It is a white knuckled determination to honour, love and stick with your prince/princess no matter what forces attack the drawbridge … even if they come from within!

But it is more than that. It is not enough to simply get to the end together, but is a constant, daily pursuit of a together that goes beyond fulfilling the letter of the law, and into the deep, intimate union of body, mind and soul.

In our real life relationships, we cannot expect this perfect pursuit from our prince/princess every day, but it does need to be the goal … for both parties.

So, lets aim for that happily ever after. We might not make it to the ballroom every night, but at least we will have our gown/tux ever ready in the closet. To aim any lower is to jump for the drawbridge as it’s lifting … never sure if our feet will land safely on the other side.

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Loving the Beast

Posted in FAMILY, life, Love, The Beast, WONDER, tagged #lovehurts, #loveissacrifice, #lovingthebeast, #moveintothehurting, #shiloh, #thebeast on May 26, 2016| 1 Comment »

10351802_10152855583535590_6673932177946581782_n Just over five years ago I introduced you to our beast.

My Loves – The Beast

She became a regular on this blog, as regular as the rest of our crazy family.

Over a year ago she started to tire more quickly, followed by tripping up the stairs, eventually reaching the point that required us to carry her outside to relieve herself.

In those months of deteriorating health, the beast taught our family some very important lessons on life.

Sacrifice

It began when the beast started slipping on our laminate floors. We needed to allow her onto our carpeted bedroom and living room, so that she would have spaces to share time with us. Hubby, generously, okayed that allowance (despite allergies to her fur). We carried her sixty pound frame outside, and cleaned feces from carpet as she lost the ability to control her bowls. Each sacrifice was accepted by all, not as a sacrifice, but an expression of commitment to her live, to the end.

Move in to the Hurting

As the beast’s ability to move reduced, she could no longer follow us throughout the house, so we moved towards her. As a family, we read, did homework, played video games and wrote sermons together in our living room. She no longer followed us, we came to her. We knew each day with her might be her last, and I think we all wanted to ensure that she was not alone.

Loving Hurts

As we awaited the end of her life, we hurt (even hubby, who used to use her as an example of sin in his sermons). There were memories and moments of our lives tied up in that eternally shedding beast. Our kids grew ten years older with her. She was one who made us feel frustration when she got out, unleashed, running through the neighbourhood with freedoms smile plastered on her face. She made us smile when she joyfully greeted us every time we entered the house. She gave us comfort, as she sat snuggly beside us, or entered our arms for a hug. She amused us with her ‘mean dog’ look … such an act for such a peaceful dog. She tugged at our heart strings when she would nearly dislocate our shoulder if she were to hear a child crying in the distance while out for a walk. Remembering how she added to our lives, made the sorrow of parting greater.

If you are not a dog or animal person, my words and emotions expressed might seem rather over the top. That’s okay, I have been there. But this experience of loving the beast has taught us much about loving people.

Love is sacrifice.

If we are going to truly love others, we are going to have to sacrifice.

Move in to the hurting.

When someone you love is hurting, go closer to them, not farther away.

Love hurts.

I think C. S. Lewis has said it best:

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Good Mother

Posted in FAMILY, Love, WONDER, tagged Love, Mother's Day on May 10, 2015| Leave a Comment »

Mother’s Day is so … daunting, if you are a child.

Mother’s Day is so … stressful, if you are a husband of a mother (so my hubby says).

Mother’s Day is so … lonely, if you are a mom, whose child is not longer on this earth.

Mother’s Day is so … full of hurt, if motherhood has not happened for you.

Mother’s Day is so … beautiful, if you are blessed to be a mom (so, I say … no gifts required, but time together is always appreciated).

But for this blog, I write, not as a mom (as if that is possible), but as a daughter. And, this is a daunting thing to do.

When I think of my mom, I think of the words of a Jane Arden song, “Good Mother”:

“I’ve got money in my pocket,

I like the color of my hair 😉 ,

I’ve got a friend who loves me,

I’ve got a house, got a car,

I’ve got a good mother,

and her voice is what keeps me here”

But, what does ‘good mother’ mean to me, as I think about my mom?

She didn’t do it all right. She didn’t wear pearls, like June Cleaver. She didn’t have warm baked cookies for us when we came home from school. She didn’t read to us at bedtime every night. She didn’t keep her cool at all times. She didn’t drop what she was doing, every time I wanted her attention. She doesn’t always have wisdom to share (advice, though, … always). She didn’t work into the night sewing, and cleaning and whatever else that Proverbs 31 chick was supposed to do.

She is not perfect! Which is okay to me, because I am a mother, and I am so aware that ‘perfect’ and ‘mother’ do not go together (and surely, I was not perfect, as a daughter either).

But here is what she did right, in my mind:

She, despite being single and poor, chose to give birth to me.

She chose to marry, not just a man who would love her, but one who would be the best father to me, and to my brothers, that they would have in the years that followed.

She chose to do what she could, by caring for others children, to contribute financially to our family during the years when interest rates soared to near 20%.

She encouraged relationships with the parents of herself and our dad.

She celebrated … everything! If there was reason, there was cake!

She made birthdays special for my brothers and I.

She worked hard, with our dad, to maintain a marriage that has survived just over 40 years.

She loves us, all.

It would be so easy, too easy, to pick apart the problems, the mistakes, the weaknesses … the sins of our mother. But that does nothing to benefit anyone … that does nothing for her, that does nothing for us, for me.

She taught me to be honest, trustworthy, kind, sensitive and good to others, to be myself, and that it is a good thing to love God. I am, flaws and all, who I am because of my upbringing, because of my good mother. I believe my own children will only love me, in proportion to how I have modeled my love for my own mother. The jury is still out on how that is going to go.

But I know that I love her. I know that I respect her. I know that I could never know what it was to walk in her shoes, because I have been blessed to have grown up in a different time, with different parents, and different circumstances.

I know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that she did the best she could, with the resources that were available to her. And I know that, one thing is for sure, she has loved me from my earliest beginnings and will until we part on this earth.

“I’ve got a good mother, and her voice is what keeps me here,

Feet on ground, heart in hand, facing forward,

Be yourself”

* this is a re-post from four years ago … but still so true.

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Love = Pussy Willows

Posted in FAMILY, life, Love, Marriage, tagged #givingandreceiving, #pussywillows, #wonder, Dad, gifts, Mom on April 20, 2015| 3 Comments »

This is a re-post from about four years ago … but the memories shared here are remembered every spring.

I lost it, and I don’t know where …

I lost it, and I don’t know why …

I lost it, and I’ll never get it back …

It was my creation, my gift, and there is no way to ever fully re-create it 😦

Now, if you know me, you might think I am talking about my losing my marbles … and … you are probably right. But the loss I am talking about is my original post called “Love = Pussy Willows.”

I wrote it, as a gift for my parents, who DID both read the original… before it got lost in cyberspace. But, I wanted to keep it … for me, for my kids. So that when my mom and dad are no longer on this earth, we could be reminded of the legacy of thoughtful, kind and even romantic love, that they shared for each other, and left for us to duplicate in our own lives.

And so, here I go, trying to re-create that which I’ve already created, and is now gone. I feel a bit like I am one of the scientists who created/cloned Dolly the sheep. I am consulting my sieve-like brain cells for what I can recall (not much hope there). I am mixing memories, words and thoughts with the hopes of a carbon copy result. I even consulted others who also read my post, for what stood out to them. The problem is, that as a writer/creator I cannot duplicate my creation perfectly – I may have all of my childhood memories, phrases I remember writing and the help of others, but I can not go back in time.

I cannot duplicate the humidity or temperature of weather on the day I wrote it. I cannot duplicate the food I ate, the exercise I did or didn’t do, or my hormonal levels of that day. I cannot perfectly replicate the motivation I had for writing it.

So, all that said … just like Dolly the sheep, I might have all the exact pieces to clone my post … but, me, as the creator, will never, ever feel it is possible to look on the clone as anything but a cheap imitation of the real thing.

But, all that said, her I go … again.

My parents will celebrate their 40th anniversary on July 24 of this summer. I am so proud of them … (I’ve been married about half that, and I know that each day provides a new opportunity to re-choose my hubby … and he to re-choose me … and lets get real, there are many days we would like to return the other for a refund).

Mom and Dad are a fairly average married couple. They have loved, fought, struggled, and survived each other.

I was blessed to know romantic, but true, deep love and affection through them … and pussy willows.

My memories of pussy willows are so vivid, so clear, and they go as far back as when I was four or five … but they happened for many years!

In the spring my dad would be driving down a country road, usually taking out weekly trash to the ‘Dump’, or driving to my grandmothers house. And, all of a sudden he would pull over to the side of the road and get our out of the car.

Then he would be in the ditch, unaware of the presence of water, or spiders or snakes (yuck!). And he would reach out for what he was after … pussy willows.

Now this was the spring time ritual for my dad, And, as an adult, I have to say he has the eye for the perfectly developed (not too soon, not too late) pussy willows. I always seem to find them as they are just opening, or once they have gone to seed!

But the ritual didn’t end with a bouquet in his thorn punctured hands, and soggy wet feet. No, mom had her part to play as well.

When dad arrived home, with his freshly cut bouquet, he would beckon mom to the door.

And, every year her response was the same, “Oh Denny, pussy willows.” and then that ever-embarrassing (for any child who has hoped and prayed that the stork truly was responsible for the reproduction of humans) hug and kiss … and gaze into each others eyes (I can hear the adolescent within me say “blech”).

Then mom would scurry to the ‘special’ golden-yellow vase, where last years bouquet of pussy willows (cob webs and all), would still be. She would discard the old, and arrange the new bouquet to perfection. Then, the special golden-yellow vase would be set out on display.

The whole experience of the the pussy willows sticks in my head because of how they were GIVEN, and how they were RECEIVED, by each of my parents. If my mom had pestered my dad to go get her a new bouquet … the receiving wouldn’t have been as a gift, but a duty. And if my mom stuck the bouquet in just any old vase, and discarded them after a ‘respectable’ amount of time … the giving wouldn’t have been received in the manner they were given.

I love this way that my parents, unaware, taught me about giving and receiving. And I hope they can receive this post in the spirit it was intended … that of a gift to show my love.

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She Realized She Was Dancing Alone

Posted in life, Love, women, tagged #sherealizedshewasdancingalone, #somedayyourprincewillcome, Dreams, Heartache, Prince, Princess on August 11, 2014| Leave a Comment »

“She stopped playing their song

when she realized

she was dancing alone.”

Boris Pasternak

I discovered this quote one day as I was ‘feeling the pain’ of heartbreak of a woman friend. She was feeling so deceived, so hurt, so exposed, so … alone. And the quote seemed to describe perfectly the experience and emotions that she was feeling. And most of us, who have loved and lost, have felt those same emotions.

We women have such definite dreams of happily ever after. Our society, our being female, has so programmed us to dream of, seek and hold on to the hope of that elusive prince on a white horse. For some, we have found him. For some, once he kissed us at the alter, his amphibian-nature became apparent. For some, ‘he’ is still to be found. For some ‘he’ is never found.

Why do we seek the prince so, and what is it that we hope to find within him, that we need so desperately?

Maybe it is his presence, his aura. That statuesque quality of his body or his being.

Maybe it is his attention, his dotting and lavishing of his resources on us.

Maybe it is the security, the protection of one stronger, one physically larger than us (is it okay to say this, in our day of being independent females?)

Maybe it is the availability of a spider-killer, jar-opener, top shelf-reacher, foot-massager.

Maybe it is the desire to recreate and nurture life with another.

Maybe, just maybe it is the desire to be cared for unconditionally by another, who will love and be devoted to us …

even when we get a bad haircut,

or grow stretch marks,

or lose our girlish loveliness,

or lose our cool,

or our body parts migrate south,

or we tweeze more frequently under our chin than under our eyebrows,

or, or, or …

Does the prince really exist?

I do not know if THE prince does exist.

I do not know if every lady, has a knight waiting for her.

But, I do know the King, and he very much wants to provide the security, the love, the caring, the presence and the attention that we all so desperately desire, want and need.

I wish I could wipe the tears, and mend the tears in the hearts of the heartbroken, but my efforts and my words will never fill the brokenness. Only the king can do that.

And when a woman is able to accept his love and mercy, it is then that she has become the princess … no longer in waiting.