Part 2: Love Is Kind

The next year, Brett knew he had some making up to do – we were a good year and a half into our dating career together… so a hug and a slice of pepperoni was not going to cut it this time around.  To make everything easier, we had decided that we would make the gifts, right…because that always goes well. 

Which of course, lends itself nicely, to a Friends reference:

 

So anyway, at around 6:00 that evening, I show up at his door in my pj bottoms and a t-shirt, and knock slightly, on the door.  Knock, knock. No answer?  Knocking a little louder and still finding myself standing out in the cold, I opened the door slowly… as smoke came rolling around my ankles and down the front steps, sensing an escape rout.  

Adequately alarmed, I peaked inside to hear the sounds of pots and pans being thrown about, just as Brett walked around the corner, dressed dapperly in a pressed button down shirt, which was now splattered… with what I can only hope is marinara sauce… and I quickly see that this evening, is not going as planned. 

There was a fair amount of consoling and ramen noodles to be had, as together, we tidied up the kitchen, saying farewell to charred asparagus and dried up chicken.  And then… it was time for presents.

Now, I’m not ashamed to admit it… but one of my "Love Languages" (to borrow a popular phrase used in a marriage counseling book of the same title) is presents or gifts – giving and receiving presents makes me feel loved, valued and embraced.  There’s just something about the idea of someone taking the time and the energy and the resources to find that perfect “thing” that will make me laugh or smile or cry that really tugs at my heart… so when it was time for us to open the presents – homemade and heartfelt presents… I got pretty excited. 

For Brett, I had put together a scrapbook of our time together, including pictures from every outing we’d had together, all our friends, places that were important to us as a couple….I had worked for weeks on this scrapbook and was thrilled with the finished product.  And more importantly, he was thrilled.  He oood and awwwd the appropriate amount…flipped through each page…commented, exclaimed, and said "thank you."

And then he handed me my present. 

It’s one of those things, that a decade years later, I really wish I had kept, just so I could show it to you today…so you too, might be able to soak it all in.  But basically, as I sat there in the middle of a smoke filled apartment, I unfolded a marinara spattered piece of posterboard with a picture of Brett’s face in the middle – a picture he had taken at Walgreens earlier that day --  and “I love you” scrawled on the bottom in red Sharpie.









Aaaaaaaaaaand, with that...sweet old Cupid was officially banned from our calendars. 

Paul says "love is kind."  And I think that's true. Love laughs as billows of smoke signal a ruined dinner while it acknowledges the sentiment behind the charred chicken.  Love wipes down marinara spattered walls while the other is in the shower, just so you won't be reminded of a "failure."  Love says that years later, you'll still remember that poster board and jab the other in the ribs and playfully roll your eyes, but still recall it with a smile. 

Love is kind.  At least it has been for me.  

There's probably a part 3...so check back soon!

Part One: Love Is Patient

Valentine’s Day is a mere two weeks away, and if you hang out long enough in the card section of WalMart, you can see the panic starting to set in.  Actual beads of sweat line the foreheads of lanky teenage boys and rosy cheeked girls, stand wide eyed with their hands full of sentimental options.   I just can’t muster up too much excitement about Valentine’s day anymore.  It lost its appeal somewhere along the journey.  The commercialization, the frenzy, the sub-par floral arrangements.  It no longer says “love” to me. 

But it hasn’t always been that way.

That first Valentine’s Day when my husband and I were dating...well, I figured Cupid had landed on our doorstep and it would be rude to deny sweet ol’, adorable Cupid all the chocolates and candy hearts and presents wrapped in red wrapping paper, that he deserved.  So Cupid and I set off for the mall. 

In my shopping bag went Brett’s Favorite Chocolate Covered Peanut Butter hearts, a beautifully written card that spoke of my unending and committed love, a small stuffed teddy bear holding a puffy heart that read “life is only bearable when you’re around”… and the crowning glory… a deal-of-the-century, end of winter sales, black leather coat.  If they gave out awards for Girl Friend of the Year, I would surely be snagging one this year, I thought.

The big day arrived and Brett invited me to come over to his place at 6:00.  Knowing few details….assuming it was all a big surprise…I dressed in my finest and headed over to his apartment… I knocked and he greeted me promptly, at the door. 

Taken aback to find him dressed in pajama bottoms and a t-shirt, I ignored it and figured he simply hadn’t yet donned the appropriate attire for our big night out on the town. 

Excited about sharing presents, we settled into the living room couch to open the Valentine loot.  First I handed over the card.  Then the Teddy Bear. Those chocolate hearts!  And then… that coat. That beautiful, handsome coat. 

To which, he briefly oood and awwwed, said "thank you"…and setting the coat aside, turned on the television while simultaneously uttering the words, “pizza should be here any minute.”

The Bible says that "love is patient." I'd say that's not entirely true. 

I figure love is challenging and expectant, hurried and all dressed up even when it's just pizza night.  I think love is found in the harried brush of anothers lips as you head out the door and the fleeting grasp of a tiny hand, that soon will leave her parents behind.  And love is demanding because it trusts the other enough to be so.  But patient?  I don't know.  

Stay tuned for part two, of this sordid love story...

Good Year: The Holiday Letter 2012

It’s late-December and we’re nearly done with Advent (the Christian season of waiting and anticipating the birth of baby Jesus). Normally, I’ve got the Christmas cards in the mail by December 2…and am emptying my mailbox with two hands, in order to corral the overflow of returned greetings by December 10…but this year?  Well, this is the Christmas letter, that almost never was.

But I’m juuuuuust narcissistic enough to feel the need to share my life story each year, so please….bear with me!  ;)  And I hope I hear back from you, as well.  Because despite the constant Facebook posts, blog reading, Linked In updating, twitter feeds, Instagram rolls, and texts…it’s nice to see the photos, read the personal notes, and hear a bit, of your story in return…feeling that heavy cardstock in my hand and wiping the glitter remnants on my face (everyone needs a little sparkle!) are just a bonus!

So….where to begin? 

In July I started a small business (and by “small,” I mean there’s one employee and she’s me!) called Just One Bite, where I produce single serving, microwavable cake and brownie mixes that are mostly gluten-free and void of preservatives.  I started by selling them at farmers markets…but that’s a hard crowd to woo, especially in semi-rural Belton.  So I turned to selling mostly online (justonebitemixes.com) and with the help of friend, who has a growing-in-readership blog and was nice enough to mention me in a couple of posts…I’m actually doing okay!  Of course, when I say “okay” I mean, I’m-actually-making-enough-to-pay-for-the-ingredients, kind of okay!! So, I won’t be quitting my day-job any time soon…but for now, it’s exciting, creative, and fun! 

And speaking of my day job…this has been a good year for me!  Beginning Easter Sunday, I served for four months as a Sabbatical Interim Minister at Countryside Christian Church in Mission, Kansas, and led them through a time of healing and hope.  While it wasn’t always easy, it was enriching and I’m thankful for the opportunity to serve and love and be invited to take part in the spiritual lives of others.  And then, less than a month ago, I was called as the Minister of Discernment (little bit Interim Minister, little bit Senior Minister, little bit Wilderness Guide!) for Cherokee Christian Church in Prairie Village, Kansas.  Having just started, we’re still in the “honeymoon phase”…but I trust, as I lead them in a process of discerning what God is calling them to be and do in the world…that it will be quite a journey!!  And again, I am just so grateful for the chance to do the work I have been called to, with God's people, who are willing to do the hard work, as well!

Brett is still serving faithfully at Raymore Christian Church, here on the Missouri side of things…and he just celebrated FIVE years as their Senior Minister!  This is the longest we’ve ever been in one place, since being married…so it feels like quite a milestone for both of us!  Every now and then, I get ancey-pants, but that goes away when I look at how much work we are putting into our house – and yes, the proverbial “we” may be used here, as overseeing projects, is a VERY stressful job!!  New floors are going down (slowly but surely) as I type this, and refreshed baseboards and a new coat of paint already have the place feeling new again.  Brett is still into sweepstaking, we both served as Docents at the Kansas City Zoo this year, and we really enjoyed a trip to Colorado Springs this past summer. (In fact, we’re dreaming of a little retirement cottage in Manitou Springs, where Brett can become a Pikes Peak train conductor and I can open a little boutique!  Because if there’s one thing Manitou needs more of…it’s boutiques!!)

Brett’s family has had a rough year.  His parents, Dwayne and Glenda, have been in the hospital with one thing or another, 14 times in 12 months, between the two of them!  Neither has had the opportunity to work much, given all of the troubles, but are still employed by WalMart, there in Mason City, Iowa.  They love their church where they are both very active and when the weather is a bit warmer, continue to nurture the garden oasis that is their front yard.  Scott, Emily and the kids are still in Milwaukee and lead the kind of life you’d imagine with two growing, active, and energetic children!  We look forward to seeing the whole family this coming summer, when we gather in Bemidji for a week of outdoor fun (a trip that Brett won, through sweepstaking!).

My family is doing well!  Mom is healthy and cancer free, still working at Bolivar HS as a Biology and Anatomy teacher...and Dad is counting down the days ‘till he can sell his pottery full time and get out from behind the computer and daily grind of the dreaded “office job” once and for all.  He joined me at a local Holiday Craft Fair to sell some of his pottery, with the goal of selling one piece…and ended up selling at least half of what he came with…so there’s certainly a market for his work and his vision…now he just needs to find the time to create!  If you’d like to see some of his work, you can find his blog at http://sleepingvillagepottery.blogspot.com/.

Otherwise, all is well!  And we hope this letter finds things as well, if not better, for you!

As always, you are welcome to our home at any time (just give me an hour or two warning…not that the house isn’t spotless ALL the time…but…..)!  Merry Christmas and may you know more love and laughter in the new year, than you know what to do with!!!

Peace and joy and love to you,

t, b, wyatt, abby, and shuffles

Joy: An Advent Thought

In eight short days, Jesus will come into the real world.  Not under a beautifully lit manger scene with new hay and a warm bath to welcome him.  But to a dingy barn, with the smell of lanolin and poop to welcome his new nose, while a servant-class young mother and a manual laborer of a father will wrestle with first-time parenthood.  That baby will preach and no one will listen, love and will be chastised.  That baby will speak when others are silent, act when it is not in his best self-interest, and will pray when there are no other words.  That baby will shelter the dead and will comfort the heart-sick, will cry out for the victims, and will weep when any of us are broken.  Is it possible that this is our joy?  Must our joy come from the least of these?  The most broken of these? 

Day 3-10: Sometimes We're Called To Be Starters

So, you know that "25 Day Photo Challenge" I boisterously decided was a good idea in the middle of Advent? 

Here's what I know for sure....

Day 3: Gifts 

Seriously?  On day three?!!!  Who made this list?


Day 4: Tradition

We have no Elf on a Shelf.  We don't go caroling.  We find the mall, sigh inducing.  And unless eating Puppy Chow and watching Hallmark movies can be considered tradition....


Day 5: Santa

Really?


Day 6: Stockings

I was going to post a photo of the new tights I bought, which go with this smokin' hot red skirt I found for $9....but that just seemed weird.  And possibly not the "stockings" that the list was referring to.


Day 7: Snow

Um.  Up until today, we have reached 60* or higher since last February.


Day 8: Tree

Now our tree.  That's a beauty.  Photos later, perhaps.


Day 9: Treats

Again.  I would refer you to the Puppy Chow mentioned earlier.  But apparently, we're calling that "tradition" now.


Day 10: Joy

I could say something about joy....but I need to "save" whatever word I can muster, for this coming Sunday's sermon.  (Though let the record state...despite the fairly dismal showing of this list...I know great and abiding joy this time of year.  In ways that I don't sense, during other times of the year. And though I don't have photographic evidence of this abiding joy, it is there...it is real in nearly tangible ways...and it carries me from one winter to the next.)


So.  I'm out.  I should have known better.  Some of us are called to be starters.  And I'm afraid that's me. 

For MM: The Rest of the Story

There are a few things that shouldn't be hanging out in the world, alone. 

Like fried bread...without the cheese.
Or Burt...without Ernie.
Salt and no pepper.
Ketchup without its mustard.

And it was clearly an oversight, to not include the shepherd.  With the sheep. 

So here's the whole set... together at last.

Peace: An Advent Thought

It’s bigger than us, you know.  Peace. 

But it begins with us. 

It begins when we breath in the breath of God and cease the hand waving and the frenzied checklist of expectations and instead, extend our hands in an embrace and trade our checklists, our itemized "my-language," for dialogue grounded in hope, so that it becomes "other-language." 

Peace begins when we can recognize that we have “enough.”  Enough food, enough stuff, enough love, enough faith and in turn, respond when we encounter those who do not know what it means to have enough. 

Peace begins when we recognize the value of another…the value of God’s creation, made in the image of God…and respond with fewer frowns and eye rolls or snapped fingers or harsh words and instead with compassion and encouragement and love as we work – as we have been called to – as instruments of peace.

It's certainly easier said than done...maybe even especially during this time of year.  When breathing in the breath of God reminds us of how tight our chest is, how heavy the heart can be, and how high our shoulders have ascended. 

And so I pray this day, that peace might be yours...that it might fill the heart in ways that are consuming, so that you might share it with another, in ways that are life-giving.