*For the first two entry's of our story, see posts below*
Eventually that second semester of my sophomore year of college came to an end, and soon it was summer of 2002. I was supposed to be taking off on a mission trip to Russia that summer, with my "friend" and a group of other college kids, to teach English at a camp for children. I had gone on this same trip the previous summer, and it was wonderful. I grew a lot in the Lord that summer, and the children of Russia held a special place in my heart. But I realized that it was not meant to be for me to head back there this particular summer. I had some personal things going on in my life during that time (another story for another day), and my parents and I decided that I would head to Arizona, instead.
That was a hard decision for me to make. For one, I did not like that I was backing out of a commitment I had made to the Russia trip. Two, I was headed to Arizona for what I thought at the time would be the worst summer of my life (I was oh, so very wrong). And last of all, my "friend" would still be going on the Russia trip. Without me. But somewhere deep in my soul, I knew that it was time to let go. I knew in a way, that by us going our separate ways that summer, that we were somehow telling each other goodbye. To be honest, it broke my heart, but I knew it was the right thing to do. We had been working far too hard, for far too long, at something that was not meant to be. For either of us. And I was losing myself in the process. So I bit the bullet, mustered up what little courage I had left, and we headed our separate ways.
That summer in Arizona ended up being the best summer of my life, pre-marriage years, of course. It was a time of healing for me. A time to rediscover who I was. I made wonderful girlfriends that lasted for a wonderful season in my life. I became bold and confident in who I was, and the plans that God had for me in my life. No matter what they were. I remember going hiking with a friend one sunny afternoon. All of a sudden we came upon a breathtaking view, and instantly my thoughts flew to Boss. At the time, I was not sure where thoughts of him had come from, but it seemed to fit the moment. My "friend" and I still talked occasionally on the phone that summer, but I could feel my heart beginning to heal. It was no longer painful to talk to him, but not be with him. I knew that I had officially moved on.
When July came to a close, on my 20th birthday to be exact, I bid my Arizona friends goodbye and boarded a plane to head back to Texas. I was excited about starting over. I spent one week with my family, and then I headed back to school, even though classes would not be starting for another month. I returned to College Station on a Sunday afternoon and headed up to church service that night. There were not many college kids back yet, and very few people filled the pews that night (we were in our own building by then), but as I looked around, my eyes landed on the back of a familiar head. A very nice, dark head. A head with a neck covered with lots of tiny freckles. Boss was back. And I was, too.
After service that night the few of us young people that were there went out to eat at Fudruckers. Boss came too, and I got to have a lengthy conversation with him for the very first time. He talked about his first love, Ohio State football, and he told me about growing up in a small Ohio town. He told me about where he went to college, and I was surprised to learn that someone as young as he was already had his Master's degree. He told me about his work as a Manager for Champs Sports. I thought everything he said was brilliant. It was a very good night.
For the next two weeks I lived for church services so that I would get to see Boss. He was a regular now, after several months of sporadic attendance, and I learned that he had been a regular all summer. Even while the majority of the young people were gone, he had continued to show up. That impressed me, and it was evident that he had worked out whatever he had been wrestling over with God. Another thing I noticed? The picture that he carried in his Bible of that girl was gone. It seemed he had finally moved on from that dark season of his life. Funny timing, because I had moved on from my dark season, as well.
By the middle of August, I was quite smitten. Even though I had learned that Boss was supposed to be transferring to a store in Austin within the next month, I could not help myself. There was just something about him. Besides the fact that he smelled delicious, he made me feel like no one else ever had. When I talked to him, he listened, and seemed genuinely interested. Where I was loud and sarcastic, he was quiet and sincere. We balanced each other nicely. I knew it was crazy to have fallen so hard, so fast, and sometimes I wondered if I had learned anything at all that summer. But there was one thing that I had in my new found love interest that I had never experienced before, and that was peace. I knew that no matter what happened, ,whether he moved or stayed, it was all going to work out just as it should. And I ultimately knew that whether he chose me, picked me over anyone else, or not, that I was going to be okay. And that felt good.
To Be continued.
Monday, February 14, 2011
Friday, February 11, 2011
Our Story (Part 2)
*** For the first part of our story, see post below.***
The next morning I awoke still feeling quite sad. It was a brand new day, but my heart and my attitude did not feel brand new. I still felt sad, and tired, and lonely. The only plan I had ever made for my life was to be a wife and then one day a mother. Nothing else interested me. Nothing else mattered. I did not want a career. The scary part was that my dream had to involve a man picking me, choosing me over anyone else, and that was completely out of my control. I desperately wanted God's peace about the situation. I was just afraid that I would not like His final answer.
I seriously contemplated not attending worship services that morning. To be honest, I was kind of grumpy with God. I was not in the mood to plaster on a fake smile and pretend to be a carefree college girl. And besides, my "friend" was not going to be there, because he was still camping (little did I know, that was all part of God's plan). I stayed in bed for a few more minutes, wrestling with my heart about what I should do. In the end, I decided to get up and get going. I knew if I didn't show up I would have half the group of college kids from church pounding at my door after services to see why I was not there or if I needed something (they were all pretty great like that).
Since it was the Sunday before Valentines day, I remember that I dressed in a little black and red skirt (little in size, not length, because I was in fact little back then. I would like to take this opportunity to personally thank my three children, Coke-a-Cola Classic, and those beautiful golden arches for making me thesize person that I am today), a black top, and strappy black sandals. And then I headed out the door.
Once I got to the Hilton, my attitude did begin to lift a tiny bit. There was just something special about the people that gathered in that tiny little conference room, and as depressed as I was, I could not be anything but happy to be seeing all of those people soon. And besides, my mom's words from the night before were still ringing in my ears, you never know who will walk through that door. Since I was running a bit late (you know, because of the very important pity party I was having earlier in my bed) service had already started, so I slid quietly into a chair next to my friend Jeana. I began looking around the room at all of the faces gathered there. All of the usuals were accounted for. Some very dear people to me. And while I could not deny that I had been hoping that my mom would have been right, that we might have had some visitors that day, oddly I was at peace, and I began to focus on the words to the song that we were singing. And that's when I heard the doors to the little conference room open behind me.
I am pretty sure that the entire room of people turned around to see who was entering the room (again, we did not get many new faces and all of the usuals were accounted for), but I am probably the only one who remembers that particular day or the visitors we had. For that was the very first time that I laid eyes on Boss. And he took my breath away. Three men (yes, they were men not boys. I noticed that right away. I would later find out that Boss was five and a half years older than I was) walked into the conference room that Sunday morning, but I only had eyes for one. Good thing, too, because I would later notice that the other two men were sporting wedding rings :).
By this time the service had picked right back up, and Boss had slid into the chair directly in front of me. I noticed that he was wearing a plaid button down shirt, green cargo pants, and Doc Martins. And I noticed that he smelled good. And that he had a lot of tiny freckles covering the back of his neck. They were very nice freckles. And then I decided that I had better get my mind focused on the service once again, though I might have stolen another peek or two at his adorable freckles.
After service ended, I learned that the guy with the freckles had a name. It was a very nice name, that just happened to sound good combined with mine, if I did say so myself. And I learned that out of the three men, Boss was the only one who lived in College Station. Thank goodness for me! The other two men were his brother and his mentor/friend, and they were visiting from Ohio. (Later on I would learn that during this time, Boss was going through quite a dark period in his life, and his brother and friend were there to encourage him and to get him back on track with God. It was his friend who suggested they attend the little church that met in the Hilton that morning. So very glad that he did!) Lastly, I learned that Boss was not a student, but he was instead working in the area as a Manager for Champs Sports. An older, working man. I liked that.
Some of the college kids asked if the three visitors wanted to join us for lunch at Fajita Rita's (a Mexican joint), and they accepted. I wound up getting to sit right next to Boss throughout the entire meal. (See? Part of God's plan. Had my "friend" been in town, I would have sat right next to him, and Boss would have assumed we were a couple, as that is what everyone always assumed.Our relationship was not easily explained.) We didn't talk much, even though there were definite sparks, but I noticed everything that he said and did. He ordered Root Beer to drink. He had kind, shy eyes. He paid for the entire tables meals. He said that he would be back that night. Needless to say, I went home a very happy girl. Well, I went home a happy girl after I went to the mall and bought a new shirt to wear to service that night. And then I called my mom to tell her the good news, that we had visitors that morning, and that one of the visitors was cute. And she was nice enough not to say, I told you so. Boss did come back to services that night. And he told me that he liked my shirt :). See dad? That money I spent was totally worth it.
Over the next three months Boss would sporadically show up at services. He would be there several weeks in a row, and then he would disappear for awhile. Occasionally I would go and stalk him at his store in the mall. He was always polite when we would talk, always remembering my name, but always keeping his distance. During this time I was on again with my "friend", but Boss was never far from my mind. I would think about him, my special visitor that I believed God had sent just for me to remind me to keep my hope alive. I did not really think that Boss was my Mr. Right. In fact, one time I caught him looking at a picture of another girl that he carried in his Bible, and I assumed his heart belonged to someone else. But to me, he represented hope. Hope that you never knew who was going to walk right through a door and into your life. Hope that the Master Weaver was still up there at work, weaving people in and out of our lives, and you would never know when He was going to weave in the "one". Yes, Boss was my message of hope. My very cute, very studly, message of hope.
To Be Continued.
The next morning I awoke still feeling quite sad. It was a brand new day, but my heart and my attitude did not feel brand new. I still felt sad, and tired, and lonely. The only plan I had ever made for my life was to be a wife and then one day a mother. Nothing else interested me. Nothing else mattered. I did not want a career. The scary part was that my dream had to involve a man picking me, choosing me over anyone else, and that was completely out of my control. I desperately wanted God's peace about the situation. I was just afraid that I would not like His final answer.
I seriously contemplated not attending worship services that morning. To be honest, I was kind of grumpy with God. I was not in the mood to plaster on a fake smile and pretend to be a carefree college girl. And besides, my "friend" was not going to be there, because he was still camping (little did I know, that was all part of God's plan). I stayed in bed for a few more minutes, wrestling with my heart about what I should do. In the end, I decided to get up and get going. I knew if I didn't show up I would have half the group of college kids from church pounding at my door after services to see why I was not there or if I needed something (they were all pretty great like that).
Since it was the Sunday before Valentines day, I remember that I dressed in a little black and red skirt (little in size, not length, because I was in fact little back then. I would like to take this opportunity to personally thank my three children, Coke-a-Cola Classic, and those beautiful golden arches for making me the
Once I got to the Hilton, my attitude did begin to lift a tiny bit. There was just something special about the people that gathered in that tiny little conference room, and as depressed as I was, I could not be anything but happy to be seeing all of those people soon. And besides, my mom's words from the night before were still ringing in my ears, you never know who will walk through that door. Since I was running a bit late (you know, because of the very important pity party I was having earlier in my bed) service had already started, so I slid quietly into a chair next to my friend Jeana. I began looking around the room at all of the faces gathered there. All of the usuals were accounted for. Some very dear people to me. And while I could not deny that I had been hoping that my mom would have been right, that we might have had some visitors that day, oddly I was at peace, and I began to focus on the words to the song that we were singing. And that's when I heard the doors to the little conference room open behind me.
I am pretty sure that the entire room of people turned around to see who was entering the room (again, we did not get many new faces and all of the usuals were accounted for), but I am probably the only one who remembers that particular day or the visitors we had. For that was the very first time that I laid eyes on Boss. And he took my breath away. Three men (yes, they were men not boys. I noticed that right away. I would later find out that Boss was five and a half years older than I was) walked into the conference room that Sunday morning, but I only had eyes for one. Good thing, too, because I would later notice that the other two men were sporting wedding rings :).
By this time the service had picked right back up, and Boss had slid into the chair directly in front of me. I noticed that he was wearing a plaid button down shirt, green cargo pants, and Doc Martins. And I noticed that he smelled good. And that he had a lot of tiny freckles covering the back of his neck. They were very nice freckles. And then I decided that I had better get my mind focused on the service once again, though I might have stolen another peek or two at his adorable freckles.
After service ended, I learned that the guy with the freckles had a name. It was a very nice name, that just happened to sound good combined with mine, if I did say so myself. And I learned that out of the three men, Boss was the only one who lived in College Station. Thank goodness for me! The other two men were his brother and his mentor/friend, and they were visiting from Ohio. (Later on I would learn that during this time, Boss was going through quite a dark period in his life, and his brother and friend were there to encourage him and to get him back on track with God. It was his friend who suggested they attend the little church that met in the Hilton that morning. So very glad that he did!) Lastly, I learned that Boss was not a student, but he was instead working in the area as a Manager for Champs Sports. An older, working man. I liked that.
Some of the college kids asked if the three visitors wanted to join us for lunch at Fajita Rita's (a Mexican joint), and they accepted. I wound up getting to sit right next to Boss throughout the entire meal. (See? Part of God's plan. Had my "friend" been in town, I would have sat right next to him, and Boss would have assumed we were a couple, as that is what everyone always assumed.Our relationship was not easily explained.) We didn't talk much, even though there were definite sparks, but I noticed everything that he said and did. He ordered Root Beer to drink. He had kind, shy eyes. He paid for the entire tables meals. He said that he would be back that night. Needless to say, I went home a very happy girl. Well, I went home a happy girl after I went to the mall and bought a new shirt to wear to service that night. And then I called my mom to tell her the good news, that we had visitors that morning, and that one of the visitors was cute. And she was nice enough not to say, I told you so. Boss did come back to services that night. And he told me that he liked my shirt :). See dad? That money I spent was totally worth it.
Over the next three months Boss would sporadically show up at services. He would be there several weeks in a row, and then he would disappear for awhile. Occasionally I would go and stalk him at his store in the mall. He was always polite when we would talk, always remembering my name, but always keeping his distance. During this time I was on again with my "friend", but Boss was never far from my mind. I would think about him, my special visitor that I believed God had sent just for me to remind me to keep my hope alive. I did not really think that Boss was my Mr. Right. In fact, one time I caught him looking at a picture of another girl that he carried in his Bible, and I assumed his heart belonged to someone else. But to me, he represented hope. Hope that you never knew who was going to walk right through a door and into your life. Hope that the Master Weaver was still up there at work, weaving people in and out of our lives, and you would never know when He was going to weave in the "one". Yes, Boss was my message of hope. My very cute, very studly, message of hope.
To Be Continued.
Thursday, February 10, 2011
Our Story (Part 1)
*** Nine years ago today, I met my husband for the very first time. At that time I didn't know that he was going to be my husband, but I did know that I thought he was quite good looking (read super hot), and that he made me rashy. All very good things. Seeing as we are currently celebrating the month of love, I thought it would be a good time to record the story of how we met and married on the pages here. Sometimes I want there to be more romance, more time together. Sometimes I wish that we never argued, or that we had done this or that differently. Sometimes I wish I still looked like we did when we first met. (Okay. I always wish that.) Sometimes I forget about how we came to be, as after nine years together it sort of begins to feel like we have always been. But when I take the time to stop and think about how God brought a small town Southern Ohio boy and a big city Texas girl together in the middle of Aggie Country (Whoop!), at a Hilton hotel of all places, I get chills. Our story is not one without bumps along the way. It is not perfect. But it is a great story, because it is ours. And we are definitely planning on living happily ever after. ***
With the telling of every good story, I believe that one must start at the beginning. I won't start at the very beginning, mind you, as I want to spare you the details of how my mother thought she was peeing on herself for a few hours before she realized she was in labor with me a month early (you can thank me later), but I will start with letting you know that I have always known that I wanted to get married. Always. Some people know that they enjoy the party lifestyle. Some people know that they would be better off being single. But not me. My heart was meant for marriage. When I was a young child and I had to sleep upstairs in a room all by myself, I did not long for a sister to share my room with me. I longed for a husband. That's right. I was a scrawny little eight year old who dreamed of my wedding day, so that I would no longer have to sleep alone. And my yearning to be married only grew with each passing year.
Back in my day, boys and girls started "going out" in the second grade. Seriously. All that really meant was that they would hold hands on the bus or on the playground, and that they would pass notes with 'I Love You's' back and forth. Now that my own daughter will be in the second grade next year, that behavior appauls me. No stinky boy had better lay a hand on my baby girl! Besides, she is going to marry her daddy. Ahem. But boy/girl relationships were thrust into my world at a very young age. In sixth grade I remember wanting a boyfriend so badly that I made one up. I named him Cody. We talked on the phone every single night. It's true. So very embarassing and sad, but true. And in junior high, my feelings of wanting a boy to love me only grew stronger. Again, not proud of how desperately I wanted affection during that time in my life, but I am just keeping it real.
I got my first boyfriend when I was sixteen. I sure thought he was a hunk. (Yes, we used the word hunk back then. We also used the words rad, chuck, and dude.) We "dated" for a couple of months and he was my very first kiss. He dumped me on Valentines day when he realized that I was never going to give him what he wanted. I was crushed. The next boy that I dated was a nicer fellow. He took me out to dinner a few times, took me for rides in his truck, and then he left for college. Bummer. Again, I was crushed. My last high school boyfriend was a bad boy. I am pretty sure my mother cried during the whole five months that we dated. I thank God that I was able to keep myself pure during the months that we were together, even though that is not what he wanted. And then I left for college. (Insert side note: My experiences with high school boyfriends, from my church youth group no less, are some of the reasons that I home school my children and plan on locking them in the basement until they are thirty. Or maybe forty. Or possibly forever and ever. Amen.)
College was a wonderful time for me. While I fully admit that I am one of those girls who attended college to get her Mrs. degree (aren't you glad to know that I graduated with honors?), I gained so much more from my college years than simply finding a husband. I was able to leave most of the insecurities and impurities that littered the halls of the highschool I attended behind, and I embarked on a new journey. I surrounded myself with Christian friends, friends with the same values that I had, went on mission trips, and figured out more about the person that God had created me to be along the way. My longing for a husband though, was still very much there.
My first college boyfriend was named Kenny. Wouldn't that have been cute? (Not.) Kenny and Kendra. Wow. Thank goodness that relationship did not pan out. I realized that good old Kenny was not the one when I figured out that his idea of a good date was to drive me to a creek underneath a highway overpass, so that I could sit and watch him fish in said creek. For several hours. Poor, poor Kenny. I sure do hope he has found himself a fish loving woman, because while he did have a very nice truck, he was not the one for me.
Shortly after Kenny, I met a boy who I truly thought was the one for me. We never technically dated. We were only ever "friends", but it was a relationship that consumed the better part of two years of my life. And while looking back I am so thankful that God spared us from ever getting involved with each other romantically (as he was clearly not the one God intended me for), those were sometimes very dark and emotional days for me. I was trying day after day to be something I was not. I tried to change myself to fit into the mold that I knew that my friend was looking for in a future wife. I felt more and more alone on the inside, but it was a relationship that I could not seem to get out of. One day we would be working towards maybe, slightly, a tiny future together, and the next day we were back to being just friends. I criend many tears over this boy. But it was also during this time that I began to draw closer to God. College was coming to an end for many of my friends, couples were starting to pair up, weddings were happening, and I was feeling more and more alone. I leaned on God like never before.
I began to wrestle with God about his plans for my life. Did He wish for me to remain single forever? Was marriage not in His plan for me? But if marriage was not in His plans, then why were my desires so strong? I began to earnestly pray about and for the partner that I hoped and prayed God was preparing just for me. I started a journal of love notes to my future husband before I even knew his name. I tried my best to daily turn my life over to God and His timing. And though there were still many questions and tears, I can honestly say that I began to find bits and pieces of peace and trust forming in my soul.
I remember clearly the night before I met Boss for the very first time. It was a Saturday night, and I was home early. My on again, off again "friend" was out of town on a guy's camping trip, and I was feeling sad. I was sitting on top of my worn white comforter, on my twin bed, in a tiny little house that I shared with two friends. I was talking on the phone with my mom. I had been for a couple of hours, and by the time we were nearing the end of our conversation I was crying. I asked my mom what I would do if God never brought someone into my life that He intended to be just for me. Someone that loved me for who I was. That didn't want to change me. And you know what my mom said? She said, "Sweetheart, do not lose faith. Do not quit hoping. He will bring your special someone into your life at just the right moment. For all you know, your Mr. Right could walk right through those church doors tomorrow morning." I didn't believe her, but I felt better as I got off the phone.
At the time I was attending worship services each week with about forty other Christians in a small conference room at the Hilton. Needless to say, we hardly ever got visitors, so I was certain that my Mr. Right was NOT going to be walking through those church doors the very next morning, but I went to sleep that night dreaming about how wonderful it would be if he actually did. Little did I know that my dreams were about to come true.......
To Be Continued.
With the telling of every good story, I believe that one must start at the beginning. I won't start at the very beginning, mind you, as I want to spare you the details of how my mother thought she was peeing on herself for a few hours before she realized she was in labor with me a month early (you can thank me later), but I will start with letting you know that I have always known that I wanted to get married. Always. Some people know that they enjoy the party lifestyle. Some people know that they would be better off being single. But not me. My heart was meant for marriage. When I was a young child and I had to sleep upstairs in a room all by myself, I did not long for a sister to share my room with me. I longed for a husband. That's right. I was a scrawny little eight year old who dreamed of my wedding day, so that I would no longer have to sleep alone. And my yearning to be married only grew with each passing year.
Back in my day, boys and girls started "going out" in the second grade. Seriously. All that really meant was that they would hold hands on the bus or on the playground, and that they would pass notes with 'I Love You's' back and forth. Now that my own daughter will be in the second grade next year, that behavior appauls me. No stinky boy had better lay a hand on my baby girl! Besides, she is going to marry her daddy. Ahem. But boy/girl relationships were thrust into my world at a very young age. In sixth grade I remember wanting a boyfriend so badly that I made one up. I named him Cody. We talked on the phone every single night. It's true. So very embarassing and sad, but true. And in junior high, my feelings of wanting a boy to love me only grew stronger. Again, not proud of how desperately I wanted affection during that time in my life, but I am just keeping it real.
I got my first boyfriend when I was sixteen. I sure thought he was a hunk. (Yes, we used the word hunk back then. We also used the words rad, chuck, and dude.) We "dated" for a couple of months and he was my very first kiss. He dumped me on Valentines day when he realized that I was never going to give him what he wanted. I was crushed. The next boy that I dated was a nicer fellow. He took me out to dinner a few times, took me for rides in his truck, and then he left for college. Bummer. Again, I was crushed. My last high school boyfriend was a bad boy. I am pretty sure my mother cried during the whole five months that we dated. I thank God that I was able to keep myself pure during the months that we were together, even though that is not what he wanted. And then I left for college. (Insert side note: My experiences with high school boyfriends, from my church youth group no less, are some of the reasons that I home school my children and plan on locking them in the basement until they are thirty. Or maybe forty. Or possibly forever and ever. Amen.)
College was a wonderful time for me. While I fully admit that I am one of those girls who attended college to get her Mrs. degree (aren't you glad to know that I graduated with honors?), I gained so much more from my college years than simply finding a husband. I was able to leave most of the insecurities and impurities that littered the halls of the highschool I attended behind, and I embarked on a new journey. I surrounded myself with Christian friends, friends with the same values that I had, went on mission trips, and figured out more about the person that God had created me to be along the way. My longing for a husband though, was still very much there.
My first college boyfriend was named Kenny. Wouldn't that have been cute? (Not.) Kenny and Kendra. Wow. Thank goodness that relationship did not pan out. I realized that good old Kenny was not the one when I figured out that his idea of a good date was to drive me to a creek underneath a highway overpass, so that I could sit and watch him fish in said creek. For several hours. Poor, poor Kenny. I sure do hope he has found himself a fish loving woman, because while he did have a very nice truck, he was not the one for me.
Shortly after Kenny, I met a boy who I truly thought was the one for me. We never technically dated. We were only ever "friends", but it was a relationship that consumed the better part of two years of my life. And while looking back I am so thankful that God spared us from ever getting involved with each other romantically (as he was clearly not the one God intended me for), those were sometimes very dark and emotional days for me. I was trying day after day to be something I was not. I tried to change myself to fit into the mold that I knew that my friend was looking for in a future wife. I felt more and more alone on the inside, but it was a relationship that I could not seem to get out of. One day we would be working towards maybe, slightly, a tiny future together, and the next day we were back to being just friends. I criend many tears over this boy. But it was also during this time that I began to draw closer to God. College was coming to an end for many of my friends, couples were starting to pair up, weddings were happening, and I was feeling more and more alone. I leaned on God like never before.
I began to wrestle with God about his plans for my life. Did He wish for me to remain single forever? Was marriage not in His plan for me? But if marriage was not in His plans, then why were my desires so strong? I began to earnestly pray about and for the partner that I hoped and prayed God was preparing just for me. I started a journal of love notes to my future husband before I even knew his name. I tried my best to daily turn my life over to God and His timing. And though there were still many questions and tears, I can honestly say that I began to find bits and pieces of peace and trust forming in my soul.
I remember clearly the night before I met Boss for the very first time. It was a Saturday night, and I was home early. My on again, off again "friend" was out of town on a guy's camping trip, and I was feeling sad. I was sitting on top of my worn white comforter, on my twin bed, in a tiny little house that I shared with two friends. I was talking on the phone with my mom. I had been for a couple of hours, and by the time we were nearing the end of our conversation I was crying. I asked my mom what I would do if God never brought someone into my life that He intended to be just for me. Someone that loved me for who I was. That didn't want to change me. And you know what my mom said? She said, "Sweetheart, do not lose faith. Do not quit hoping. He will bring your special someone into your life at just the right moment. For all you know, your Mr. Right could walk right through those church doors tomorrow morning." I didn't believe her, but I felt better as I got off the phone.
At the time I was attending worship services each week with about forty other Christians in a small conference room at the Hilton. Needless to say, we hardly ever got visitors, so I was certain that my Mr. Right was NOT going to be walking through those church doors the very next morning, but I went to sleep that night dreaming about how wonderful it would be if he actually did. Little did I know that my dreams were about to come true.......
To Be Continued.
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
Made New
Lately, my attitude has been suffering. Wouldn't you know that on my new journey to find Christ, Satan would try to smack me down right off the bat? It's true. He has. And it hasn't been pretty. I have been grumbling. I have been complaining. I have been throwing myself a week long pitty party. I have been fighting the urge to want "more" in life than what I have been given. I have been desiring more money and more time with my husband. I have been preoccupied and less than patient with my children, and I have been less than a tuned out house parent. Truthfully, a lot of my mood stemmed from feeling burned out of house parenting. It's nothing that the kids in our care have done or not done lately, I had just been desiring my own home and my own life. Carrying the burdens of so many people's lives had just gotten too heavy, and I wanted to quit. Or at the very least lock my door, crawl into my bed (alone), and pull the covers up to my chin. And not get up until summer. I am not proud of the way that I have been acting, but I am being honest. I needed a kick in the pants to get back on track with what truly matters in this life. Tonight I got one.
K (we will call her that for privacy), has lived with our family for a year and a half. When she first moved in with us, she was very angry. In fact, she ran away that very first week :). She had adoptive parents who loved her, but at that time she wanted nothing to do with them. She didn't want anything to do with anyone, really, unless we were talking about boys. She was (and still is) a teenage girl, after all:). But time passed, and day after day,month after month,we began to see layers of her anger and her rebellious spirit chip away. She began to smile and take pride in the way that she cared for herself and dressed. She raised her grades and started making plans for an academic future. She mended broken relationships with her family. Instead of tolerating worship services with our family, she began seeking and desiring answers on her own. Her heart changed and it showed in the way that she began to live her life. While I consider K one of our few "success" cases (out of 36), I had sadly (for me) began to think that our work with her was done. When you are in this field for any length of time, sometimes you begin to lose hope as so many young girls with great potential never amount to anything. It can become quite disheartening. So with all of the progress that K had made, I had somewhat believed that was as good as it was going to get. Shame on me. Because God was still at work.
A couple of weeks ago, K began to discuss baptism with Boss and I. She has been studying her Bible for quite some time, and she had decided that she believed that Jesus Christ was in fact the Son of God, and that she wanted to be baptized. When a child in the custody of the county wants to make a decision such as this, they must have county approval, so we started making calls, praying, and waiting for the final decision to be made. K's decision was already made, and I am confident that God knew her heart, regardless of what the county ended up deciding. Anyway, I did not know that tonight was going to be "the night" going into it. But it was. And it was awesome.
Boss got the privilege of baptizing K. A first for him. Bless his heart, he was so nervous. Everything he had planned to say flew right out the window, and he stuck with the basics, but that doesn't matter (I have reassured him:). What matters is that a soul has been saved. What matters is that a slate has been wiped clean, and a heart has been made new. It was a beautiful, sobering moment that reminded all who witnessed it that God does not give up on us, and that we are never so lost that we cannot be found. It was a sobering moment for me and my bad attitude that wanted to quit. That wanted to be selfish and lazy. And as we walked with K to the front of the auditorium tonight, my sweet husband whispered in to my ear, this is why we do what we do. And he is right. Not that it in any way, shape, or form is about us, but instead it is about God working through us, and everyone who surrounds these kids, to bring about His purposes for their lives. And even if K is the only one that we ever influence in this manner, then it is still worth it. I needed that reminder. With God, all things can be made new, whether it is K's heart and soul, or my bad attitude. With Him, anything is possible. This, I believe. I am so very proud of you, K!
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
Love
Happy month of love, sweet friends! Valentines has never been "big" on my list of holidays, but this year I have decided to try and live it up, because, well, I LOVE love. I really and truly LOVE love. I love nothing better than watching a sappy chick flick about love, listening to music about love, or reading a good love story. All of the above make my heart pitter patter and my eyes mist with tears. I think love is amazing and beautiful, and this year I have decided to celebrate big.
Yesterday, I bribed one of the big girls to take down the remaining outside Christmas lights (yes, they were still up, and yes, it was cold), so that I could put up a cute little welcome sign made out of hearts by our front door. Then today, the girls (my little ones) and I decorated our dining room table for the month of love. And to top it all off, we made crayon valentines to hang in the windows. Quite a good start to February, if I do say so myself!
What else do I have in store for this month? Well, the big girls and I plan on watching every chick flick we can between now and the 14th, my littles girls and I plan on making homemade Valentines for those that we love, I plan on serving a special meal on the actual day of love, and I also plan on journaling here (over the next several days) my own personal love story with Boss (my forever Valentine). It is a good story! Scratch that. Our love story is a great one!
So happy month of love, sweet friends. While I certainly do not believe love should be celebrated only one month a year, I think it will be wonderful to concentrate specifically on the blessings of love that I have in my life over this next month, and I encourage you to do the same!
Yesterday, I bribed one of the big girls to take down the remaining outside Christmas lights (yes, they were still up, and yes, it was cold), so that I could put up a cute little welcome sign made out of hearts by our front door. Then today, the girls (my little ones) and I decorated our dining room table for the month of love. And to top it all off, we made crayon valentines to hang in the windows. Quite a good start to February, if I do say so myself!
What else do I have in store for this month? Well, the big girls and I plan on watching every chick flick we can between now and the 14th, my littles girls and I plan on making homemade Valentines for those that we love, I plan on serving a special meal on the actual day of love, and I also plan on journaling here (over the next several days) my own personal love story with Boss (my forever Valentine). It is a good story! Scratch that. Our love story is a great one!
So happy month of love, sweet friends. While I certainly do not believe love should be celebrated only one month a year, I think it will be wonderful to concentrate specifically on the blessings of love that I have in my life over this next month, and I encourage you to do the same!
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