Chapter 26

_MG_8854We slid down the icy hill hands laced together between the college book store and the dorm entryway. Our hands, still clasped, rested on the heater vent pumping out warm air defrosting our frozen fingers. An hour passed– sometimes two. This went on night after night, week after week, month after month. He just couldn’t pry his fingers loose and walk out the door to do his homework.

Next came the pearl promise ring at the end of a treasure hunt buried in the sand on the beach.

Then an engagement ring and wedding plans….all prequel to the story we started to write together 26 years ago today.

The pages were blank and new, an invitation to compose an original masterpiece ……..

Kneeling at the altar in a white dress and tux, naively, I read these words from Proverbs 31,

Who can find a virtuous and capable wife?
She is more precious than rubies.
Her husband can trust her,
and she will greatly enrich his life.
She brings him good, not harm, all the days of her life.
She is clothed with strength and dignity, and she laughs without fear of the future……
When she speaks, her words are wise, and she gives instructions with kindness.
Charm is deceptive, and beauty does not last;
but a woman who fears the Lord will be greatly praised.

That’s the kind of woman I imagined myself becoming on the arm of the man who made me feel safe, wanted and connected. I was excited about our future.

And I had no idea how relentlessly Satan would malign us.

That warm July day turned into a year, then a decade, then two plus six more. Our story included advanced educational degrees, all kinds of jobs, travel, babies, adopted pets. We bought a house and then built one and later moved across country. We buried a child and 3 parents so far. Then sent our first kid off to college. All these markers of time intermingled with a million other snapshots of daily life.

And life got messy in a hurry.

That connected, safe feeling vanished under the weight of expectations. The adhesive of affection and attraction broke down and we were undone.

In word and deed we trampled on each other’s hearts, left each other wounded and withdrew behind our self-protective walls leaving the other to bleed alone.

But God is always doing something redemptive and He delights to blow His warm breath of life into our empty, exposed, icy hearts, defrosting them until they beat again. This time with a better love—His love.

And His love is this:

God demonstrates his own love for us in this way: Christ died for us while we were still sinners. (Rom. 5:8)

His love exemplifies costly personal sacrifice even when the recipient of that love hasn’t earned it, doesn’t deserve it and refuses to receive it. He provided a model for me to reproduce with that guy I chose to write my story with. And vice versa….

In a story, it’s really the ending that matters. Tragedies depict characters that start out optimistically exuding love and hope but succumb to adversity and are ruined by it. Comedies set forth obstacles that leave characters constantly at the edge of their seats. The future looks uncertain but they step into tomorrow one day at a time, smiling, resisting the temptation to be paralyzed by fear and they end with their own customized rendering of “happily ever after”.

One of my favorite songwriters, Sara Groves sings about how marriage parallels this literary construct in her song  Re-Write This Tragedy:

Tonight I forgot a line in the play that you and I
Have been rehearsing since the day we met.
It made me put down my script, made me look around a bit
And wonder how we came to play these parts.
Sometimes it’s hard to tell what to keep and what to kill
What of this makes us who we are?
All that we love the most, all that we cannot let go
How much of change can we survive?
So let’s re-write this tragedy.
One line at a time.
Hold on, we’re changing all the scenery.
It’s okay; we’ll be fine–
Cause we know how this ends.
We know there’s a better story–
Of true love
Of true grace.
There’s the hope of glory–
When we can’t stay where we are…..                      

That’s us– 26 years in. Re-writing our story. Making it better. Leaning hard on True Love and True Grace. Embracing the Hope of Glory.

Thank you Brian!  Thank you for marrying your story to mine.

Hopefully anticipating all the chapters yet to be written…

Easter’s Gardening Miracle

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We lined up the plastic containers and poured premium potting soil with fertilizer in each one. Then Starla gently set 1 seed in each container and covered it with a layer of dirt. Each seed was dormant—lifeless, dead. She watered them dutifully all week and on Easter weekend, they sprouted. One after another the fresh, new green shoots erupted through the soil alive and growing. How kind of God to give us a gardening miracle on Easter weekend. It’s not just our sunflower seeds that have come alive. Jesus is alive. On Easter Sunday we celebrate our future and our hope. We give thanks that we have not received what we deserve and we have received what we didn’t deserve. Ecclesiastes reminds us that there is a time for everything—

A time to plant and a time to harvest…… 

A time to cry and a time to laugh.

A time to grieve and a time to dance.

Today is a time to harvest, to laugh, to dance because

lent is over and  He is Risen indeed. Hallelujah!

 

Countdown to Easter

by Robyn
by Robyn

It feels so good to see light at the end of the tunnel. So far, I’ve survived 42 days of boring food and clothes, but in 5 more days it will be Easter. I love the feeling of anticipation (and I’m definitely feeling it now), but I’m afraid that I’m so excited for sugar and pretty clothes that I might miss the importance of Good Friday or even Resurrection Day. I mean, will I be happy because Christ has risen, or because I can eat chocolate and wear a beautiful dress? Back in pre-school and pretty much all the way up to elementary school, all of my Sunday school teachers around this time of year would tell us that Easter isn’t about chocolate bunnies or colored eggs, but about Jesus and His victory over sin and death. My family never did Easter baskets or egg hunts, so I always thought it was funny how some people actually got more excited about these things than they did about Jesus. But, I guess those aren’t the only things that can distract us from Jesus…..

To try to keep focus on what is really important, my family celebrates with a variety of traditions. We go to church several times– to Maundy Thursday service which commemorates the Last Supper of Jesus, Good Friday service which acknowledges Jesus crucifixion, and of course, church on Resurrection Sunday. Easter starts with an all church breakfast. Here at home, Mommy and I continue reading together through Matthew following the Easter story and praying for help from God to finish well. At dinner time, we’ve been singing a Lenten and Easter hymn together for the past 6 weeks and just added our Easter egg devotions.

Maybe Starla understands Holy week better than I do…

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yHtZ_5yBUmM

 

 

Happy Heavenly Birthday To You…..

The 16th of March. The day we turned the ventilator off and his chest stopped compressing.  It’s my dad’s official “heavenly birthday”.  I’ve always wondered if he actually died on the 13th, when his chaotic heart rhythm halted to a stop and he slumped over lifeless in his breakfast plate.  While medical technology can shock back into existence a beating heart and machines can make the chest rise and fall, they can’t induce brain waves or breathe words and hugs back into the human shell.  Around his bedside, we sang him up to heaven—The Old Rugged Cross, It is Well with my Soul, Great is thy Faithfulness.  Those were beautiful, terrible holy moments.

And I reflect on the ashes on my forehead less that two weeks ago and the Words that remind me “from dust we came and to dust we will return”.

Having experienced firsthand the exhilarating thrill of new birth and been laid low by the heavy hand of death, the cycle of life can only be described as a mysterious paradox.

Today we celebrate my dad’s sweet life intertwined with ours and his transition to life eternal.  It is our tradition each year to cook a special meal and eat mountainous bowls of ice cream in his memory.  We watch him on a home movie filmed at his 77th birthday party.  His glasses partway down his nose and his deep voice sharing his story of rescue, he tells how God reached out and offered His hand, His heart, Himself and he accepted.  Then we recount the ways “Grampsy” enriched our lives. Starla has no memories, just a picture of the two of them, his arms wrapped lovingly around her tiny body, smiling.  Robyn recalls his generosity.  Lily muses fondly about playing hide and seek with him and his 3 predictable hiding places—behind the door, in the bathtub, and under the bed.  Angela appreciates that he spoke a blessing on her regularly in the words “I’m proud of you”.  Indeed he was.  Brian reminds us of all those yummy treats.–never empty handed.  And I reflect on his prayers, day after day lying in bed for hours taking the names of every person he knew and lifting them into the Father’s care.

I miss his prayer covering most. It is my inheritance.

And I remember this Lenten season that I received a legacy and I am leaving a legacy.  That I had a father and I have a Father. That life is a gift and in Every Season, including the Lenten season, He is making me new.