Young love and other such engagements...

Sometime this year, my Addie-girl will take on a new title and a new last name.  She will move out from under our covering and under the covering of another.  Yes, very recently, on top of a very high sand dune overlooking the lake, the boy I had been praying for my daughter's whole life confirmed that it was him all along.

I knew it would be this particular guy from the moment I first heard about him, but that was my secret to keep until he and I had a long walk and heart-to-heart talk.  And there have been lots of those talks since then between him and each member of this family. 
You don't just casually walk into this group.  Too much love and closely knit ties to just barge in upon.  Those who know us, know that truth.  Here trust is hard-earned.  
He has done well.  
The other day, I heard him describe our crazy family to a newcomer who looked a bit overwhelmed at the dinner table by our lively, jovial dinner.  He said something like, "At first, I thought it was strange, too, but it definitely grows on you." 
Now, he says he wants in.  (mwahahaha)

Last week he sat across the table from his FFIL (future father-in-law) and bravely asked for our daughter's hand.  My husband, I'm sure with big tears in his eyes described how she's been ours for so long to love and protect and handing her over into his care is not something we take lightly.  He reiterated the need for the new guy to be able to provide spiritually, emotionally, and financially for her and be willing to take on that commitment wholeheartedly if Daddy said yes. 
And then, Daddy said yes.  I'm sure with a few memories running around in the back of his mind of asking for my hand once upon a time.  Only my daddy wasn't so sure about my boy, and we were both hoping he didn't get met at the door with a certain shotgun.

These two are silly and giddy, smart and committed, young but with God's help, capable.  We know firsthand that the road of a young married couple is not always easy.  We know firsthand that the road of ANY married couple is not always easy.  Age is not the determiner.  And if we all waited until we had it all together until we joined hearts and hands with another, there would be no such thing as marriage.  It's pretty neat to go through all that life has to offer with a hand to hold and a shoulder nearby for crying upon.  And a nearby high-five every now and again.  
When God lines it up, you don't really say no.  
Folks will have opinions.  Don't they always? Two eighteen year olds would have to beat the odds to make it in this world, right? Well, then.  Let's cheer them on!  God's right in the center where He should be, and a cord of three strands is not easily broken.  So, for the love of Addie and Austin and what God is creating in them, please just pray for them.  Pray that they will continue to be a testimony of the goodness and graciousness of their God.  And that they will know His joy and be established firmly in His love.  
And two former eighteen-year-old-young-married-folks-who-beat-the-odds thank you for that. 

Click here for some more about why we support young marriage if God is in it. 

The simple beauty of a regular day...

I must say, the ground underneath me seems a bit shakier today.  I wouldn't call it fear, necessarily, but definitely more aware in each moment of the fragility of life. 

Since the beginning of this year, five couples that I have admired have been temporarily separated by death. Five.  In less than four months.
These are folks, some closer to me than others, that have been a part of my story in one way or another.  Some a piece of my childhood, others still an active and vital part of my adulthood.  
All had the kind of marriages that legends are made of. I find that alone, remarkable.
Every one of these who have left us, literally left this world and stepped into the arms of Jesus.  Each beautiful life was a portrait of a life surrendered to God.  There is no doubt that I will see them again.
One after another I have wept for these beautiful spouses left behind to pick up the pieces, grieve with their children and figure out a new normal.  

Today's technology allows for interesting glimpses into these stories.  
The jury is still out for me as to whether or not it's a good thing for all of the heartache to be visible.  On one hand, the family is shown tremendous support as well as being aware of the impact these lives have made.  And I was one of the masses who benefitted from the updates that I wouldn't have otherwise known.  
On the other hand, I struggle in a deep way with well-meaning condolences that fall short of considerate.  I don't have the right words--no one does--so at the risk of sounding critical, I just think that if it was me I would want fewer of them.  

But at the end of the day, I look at my husband more tenderly.
I pray for my kids a little longer as they head off to work.  
I decide that raspberry jam crusted on the counter is an annoyance worth having if it means precious life exists in these walls.
I am grateful to know that I know the end of my story and that of my family.  There is such simple beauty in a regular day.  Each one is a gift.

Every day is a journal page
Every man holds a quill and ink
And there's plenty of room for writing in
All we do is believe and think

So will you compose a curse
Or will today bring the blessings?
Fill the page with rhyming verse
Or some random sketching

Teach us to count the days
Teach us to make the days count
Lead us in better ways
Somehow our souls forgot
Life means so much, life means so much, life means so much

Every day is a bank account
And time is our currency
So no one's rich, nobody's poor
We get twenty-four hours each

So how are you gonna spend
Will you invest or squander
Try to get ahead
Or help someone who's under

Has anybody lived who knew the value of a life
And don't you think giving His all will prove the worth of yours and mine?

Every day is a gift you've been given
Make the most of the time every minute you're living
Every day is a gift you've been given
Make the most of the time every minute you're living

Lead us in better ways
Somehow our souls forgot
Life means so much, life means so much, life means so much

Life Means So Much by Chris Rice Click for the song...

Secrets Revealed!

Secrets can kill.  
It's a pretty dramatic statement, isn't it?  I've seen it happen, firsthand.  And it's not a pretty sight, let me tell you.   

For one thing, they are relationship killers.  Now, I'm not talking about the I-bought-you-the-coolest-birthday-present kind of secret.  More like the, there's-something-you-should-know-but-I'm-not-ready-to-tell-you kind of secret.   

The family I grew up in used to have a pet that we all hated and yet kept around.  I'm not too sure why we would keep a pet that destroyed our happiness, but we did.  He lived in the very center of our home, ate up any scraps of peace or joy, and ended up killing my parents' marriage and then took both of their very lives.  
It was the proverbial elephant in the room that killed our family.  My parents acquired her, fed her well, and made a bed for her in the center of our house.  She took priority over everyone else.   And when she stood in the living room, we couldn't even see each other around her.  She was enormous and representative of all the secrets our family kept.
As a matter of fact, I'm thinkin' that elephant had babies.  The longer she lived with us, the more babies she had until we couldn't even keep up with all those secrets and the poo they left behind.  

But, let me tell you some good news I learned from my garden.  
The most beautiful life can come from manure if it gets used well.  

Secondly, secrets kill individuals.   I am not being dramatic this time.  It is literal.  It starts with the littlest things that folks feel like they need to cover up.  The thing they wish they'd never done that changes the fabric of who they are.  The feelings they have that they keep to themselves.  The things that build walls between married folks, parents and children, siblings, and friends.   Those secrets are best friends with jealousy and bitterness, and  let me tell you, those suckers can eat!  The feed costs so very much, and ultimately kills all life around it.
Do you see, as I do, that holding in secrets and bitterness can affect a person all the way through to their physical health? If laughter is the best medicine than how much does negativity do the opposite?

Secrets are isolating and we were not meant to be alone.

We used to work with the youth at our church.  Beautiful people with brilliant futures who brightened our world. All of them were weighed down by secrets, like backpacks full of weights beyond their capability to carry.  Either their own that they were trying to cope with and didn't know with whom they could trust, or those their parents were silently demanding that they keep.  
Some parents knew their kids were living on the edge, yet sacrificed their child's need to relate on the altar of image.  By this, I mean, those parents were too scared to tell their own truths in an effort to relate, and in keeping those secrets their kids felt alone in the world.  
Some parents forgot their children were people at all, and those are the saddest stories.

A secret is like a brick.  One builds on another until someday there is no way around a giant wall.  

Camouflage is a game we all like to play, but our secrets are as surely revealed by what we want to seem to be as by what we want to conceal.
Russell Lynes

I don't know why I was supposed to write about secrets today.  Honestly, I have felt God prompting me to write about it for about a week, and I dragged my feet because it seemed so out-of-the-blue.  
But, hopefully, someone reading can relate.  Maybe you're exhausted with trying to feed that elephant-in-residence.  Maybe keeping up with the poo-shoveling is wearing you out.  Where to begin, you ask?

Well, how do you eat an elephant? One bite at a time.

I am increasingly surprised to hear about families that coexist more than enjoy each other.  A group of people that face outward rather than focusing inward, on each other.  Families that have forgotten that laughing and eating and playing frisbee together set a foundation for the big stuff--the big conversations that happen when trust is a given.   When my heart is out in the open, it makes it safe for your heart to be there, too.  Nothing is hidden or kept in the dark ('cause everything is scarier in the dark, isn't it?).   

If there is something between you and a friend, establish trust by being honest. Honesty, drenched in love, is the very best recipe.  Communication from the heart beginning with vulnerability builds a lovely foundation.

If the secret is something between you and your God--something you need to face up to and deal with once and for all, trust that under the shadow of the cross you will always find open arms.

And then the elephant is vanquished and love is victorious.

No one lights a lamp and then covers it with a washtub or shoves it under the bed. No, you set it up on a lamp stand so those who enter the room can see their way. We're not keeping secrets; we're telling them. We're not hiding things; we're bringing everything out into the open.
Luke 8:16,17

A Sea of Faces

So yah, we took off to Canada, eh?

Christian had business in Montreal and so Kyrsten and I tagged along. Not my first choice of destinations, as a matter of fact, so far it's lived at the bottom of my list of really useless places to visit.

It's cold, it's stinky (literally), it's expensive, it's pretty base (NOT a family town), and there's really nothing to do other than shop. Which, on occasion is a fun thing for this girl, but not with 16% sales tax and not really for me at Louis Vuitton. No offense, Louis, but I'm more of a Target girl, and high-end to me is the Loft outlet.

Plus, I'm not a city girl by any stretch of the imagination. Seen plenty of them, and though they may entertain me for a day, they really make me long for home, or at least a place where birds actually sing.

Yes, I realize that sounded a bit Snow White-esque.

 

This particular city adds to my stimulation overload by adding this little thing called French into the mix. All signs, menus, and anything else helpful are useless to me here. As are my maps and translator for my maps since my data on my now not-so-smart-phone is at a premium outside the good old US of A. Neat. This makes big city navigation extra-fun.

Especially because no one here likes me. Actually, I think no one here likes anyone else--at all. I do a lot of observing wherever I find myself, and here, more than anywhere else I've been, folks keep to themselves. The streets are jam-packed with folks walking with purpose and intention and no one looks anyone else in the eye. No one.

No one moves on the sidewalk to let me/us through. They just walk--rudely. Kyrsten and I found ourselves moving out of people's way and saying, "Excuse me" almost constantly.

I haven't seen one other person do either of those things even once here.

It's like the land of the unseeing and unseen, and everyone wants to remain that way. A sea of faces of every shade and shape. Some trying so hard to project an image and others apparently not even giving a darn. Not even a little one.

 

We did get to talk to one very nice man over dinner. I spent the evening observing him and listening to him, and there was one sentence that really struck me. In case he were to ever read this and because it's irrelevant, I will not reveal why he said it. He said in reference to his past and quite embarrassingly, that he was just a statistic.

Sure got me thinking. I started to think about how many statistics I was a part of. Oh, boy. These are just a few of the boring ones.

 

I am a dog owner. That makes me a part of the 32.7% of the US population that had a dog in 2007.

I brush my teeth at least twice a day. This puts me in the range with 75-86% of the rest of the world.

I am among the 84% or so of women who have remained faithful to their husband. Neat, huh? Christian thinks so.

 

So who cares? How does this relate?

Well, all these people I see who a trying so hard to blend in, really, in their heart of hearts don't want to be just a statistic. Each of these people long in the deepest part of them to be loved and SEEN; to matter somewhere, somehow to someone. No ones wants to remain faceless--just a statistic--no matter the front they put up.

Despite all the ads and pictures I've seen here that seem to represent how one should look, I didn't see even one person walking the streets that really looked like those pictures. Rather, I looked into the eyes of a lost and bearded homeless man who, quite frankly, scared me to the depths with what seemed to lurk within him. I looked into the eyes of a green-haired girl with a sign asking for change and saw someone's baby girl--lost and alone.

I didn't see 5'11" size 2, perfectly dressed supermodels.

I saw a bunch of people locking themselves into safe places of anonymity.

 

So, I try to determine how to bring this home. Honestly, I don't see this kind of attitude quite as much at home. Especially, in small-town-USA. Folks where I live still trust the honor system where I pick berries. They literally leave a jar for folks to put their cash. They still smile at me and might even hold the door for me. And I enjoy doing the same.

While in Montreal, I still smiled at every single person whose glance even hinted my direction. I still held the door for people and stepped out of the way every single time. I say, "excuse me" and "please" and "have a great day" like I always do at home. The fact that I don't get a response makes me want to do it more and perhaps extend a little hope or love--or even just a spark of humanity.

 

And it makes me want to hug my family and be seen. And encourage them to shine a little brighter in a dark, lonely world. To look for ways to show people that someone, somehow, sees them.

That's really what it's all about, isn't it? To look into people's eyes and help them see that they matter? To show them that there is way more to living than projecting an image--no matter what that image may be. To care about the lonely and unseen.

Count me in, eh?