Sunday Sentiments

 

Our life these last two weeks has been marked by our recent loss of Ryan's stepdad. My writing in this space has reflected that, as my thoughts have been centered on working my way through parts of my grief. We've said our final earthly goodbyes to Allen, and while our hearts still ache, we also know we have to move forward with this next season of our lives, even though it will look so very different.

But I thought it would be good to share one more post about a few lessons learned from Allen's life and the stories I've heard even in the last few days. 

* Think through your words. Ryan's brother said one of the things he learned from Allen was to think carefully about your words even when you're angry. He mentioned the many times he and Ryan exasperated Allen with their behavior as they grew up, and even when it was top level frustration, Allen thought carefully about the words he said out loud. They can damage forever and can't be taken back. Even in discipline and correction, he was careful to think through the words before he spoke them. Wise advice.

* Show up. Ryan talked about how Allen taught him to roof. When Ryan was a teenager, he helped Allen with roofing projects and learned many tricks of the trade during those years. As an adult, when Ryan worked on roofing projects, he sometimes ran into a conundrum, and he'd call Allen for advice. He said the advice was usually, "I'll be right over." And he would show up. I know this to be true...he showed up for us many times. When Ryan couldn't physically push fence posts out of the cement before our sunroom project, Allen showed up with his skid steer and together they pried those posts out of the ground. When we moved this past summer, he wasn't able to help, but he brought over his trailer so we could use it for our big furniture. 

* Work hard. Ryan has always credited Allen with teaching him to work hard, to enjoy the work of his hands, and to be known for a good work ethic. I am thankful to Allen for instilling those things in Ryan. Not only do I get to benefit from that character trait in Ryan, but I get to watch all those around us enjoy that from him as well. 

* Tend the soil. At his funeral, the minister shared a story about one of the first encounters he had with Allen. He (the minister) was new to the church and he'd driven across the field behind the church in a golf cart. Allen caught him and told him not to do that. When the minister asked why, Allen told him it compacted the soil. The minister joked that at first he thought Allen was making a statement about his weight. He said he didn't understand why it mattered, but over time he learned that for crops to be successful, the soil has to be properly cared for and aerated. For a golf cart to trample it after it's been worked can cost the farmer valuable bushels of crops later. Soil matters. Just like the soil of our lives. It always has to be tended to keep it from becoming hard and compacted.

There were so many more things I learned, but those are some of my top take-aways. I am grateful for Allen's life and how he made a tremendous impact on so many. I am specifically thankful for the tremendous impact he made on my husband. I am grateful for the man Ryan became because of Allen's influence. 

The Saturday Six

 

One.

Years ago, I bought a couple of long cardigans, and I loved them. They had short sleeves and a very loose knit and didn't make me too hot. I wore them for years (even wore one of them in one of our engagement shoots!) but when I did the capsule wardrobe a few years ago, I got rid of them. They didn't fit the capsule. But I once again love long cardigans, and I found one at the Goodwill for about three bucks. Looked completely brand new!! Found this post this week about ways to wear long cardigans so I thought I'd share it in case you love them too!

Two.

Finding yourself caught up in spending these days? This post has some great ideas for curbing your desire to spend...and the blog itself has some great advice, if you want to stay and look around for a while! 

Three.

You guys, I'm pretty ready for spring decorations. I think when February scoots out the door, I'll take down the last of the winter themed decor in the house. Perhaps this one might be too colorful for some (I know neutrals are all the rage right now) but I surely love the brightness of it all. Oh spring. Hurry to us, will you? 

Four.

I must not be the only person ready for spring weather, because The Nester posted about it this week too. She has a few slightly more subtle ideas for spring decor in the house - but they're helpful! (I'll try to be done talking about spring decorating now.) 

Five.

I've told you about a number of Bible studies from The Daily Grace Company (and they're actually running a $5 sale through tomorrow, I believe, if you want to check it out and do some shopping!) but I also learned about another Bible study writer that has a couple of options you might want to check out. You can go to her site here and download a PDF of her Ephesians and 2 Peter studies for free - or you can purchase a more colorful, magazine-style version of the same studies from her Etsy shop. I downloaded the free versions but won't get a chance to work on them until after Lent. 

Six.

Finally today...fruit salad can be simple without heavy dressings added to it. I loved this one with some suggestions of things you can add for a pick-me-up without adding a bunch of sugar! 

What's in Your Perfect Reading Nook?

Any of you ever have something and not realize how utterly wonderful it was until way too late?

I did. 

When I was little, I had the ultimate reading nook for a bed, and I didn't even know I should appreciate it until it was gone. After I graduated from my crib (a time from which I naturally have no memory), my bed was actually sort of built into the end of my bedroom. The room was very small, so it had a platform built into the end that was essentially the size of a twin bed. It had walls on three sides and I am pretty sure it even had curtains pulled back for extra ambience. (Or maybe my grown up mind made that up.) Anyway. It was so wonderful...this beautiful nook at the end of the room. I was far too young to appreciate it.

When I was in elementary school, my parents switched me to a different bedroom in our house and my former nook-laden bedroom became a storage room. When I reached junior high, Dad tore out the wall between the rooms and I had a delightfully long and skinny bedroom twice as big as any room I'd ever had before. 

The compromise Mom made with me in giving up her full storage room was that the nook at the end would be converted into a storage closet instead. 

I've never had a true reading nook since then, and that's okay, of course. I can read anywhere. (When I have time.) 

But that doesn't stop me from dreaming about one day having a little dedicated nook of the house for my reading corner. 

So of course, that makes me brainstorm about what makes the perfect reading nook. Is it the shelving? The seating? The lighting? All of it? 

I think for me, the perfect nook would be a tiny corner of a house, tucked out of the way where I could get lost in what I'm reading. It would have the most comfortable chair where I could sink down deep and stay for hours. And a fuzzy blanket. It would have a window where natural light could flood in by day, but the softest lamp for when night fell and the stories carried on.

It would have plants, of course, because I newly love them so. 

And while I've always said I'd love a Beauty and the Beast style library with floor to ceiling shelves and a rolling ladder, I think the perfect reading nook would have just a few shelves. Just a few with the very best of the best reserved for them. 

Just a little corner. A little hideaway. That would be my perfect reading nook. 

What about you? 

New Mercies

First of all, I've not kept up with responding to comments well AT ALL in the last week and a half. In the event that I don't get them all answered, please know that I am thankful for your kindness and have read your words. They have blessed me - and Ryan too! 

A few days ago, I worked through some writing-for-speaking I'd done a while back. I traveled through the memories, which included my desert of the heart season over ten years ago. It brought back another memory that I felt I should share today because maybe someone reading here today needs to hear it. (I've probably talked about it before, but some things bear repeating.)

There were days in that season when  just did not know how I would catch my next breath. Everything suffocated me. I wasn't even sure how to pray, though I did a lot of it. 

Some nights, after I got home from work, all I could do was pick up my Bible, open it to Lamentations 3, and pace from one end of the house to the other while I said these words out loud: "Yet this I call to mind and therefore I have hope: Because of the Lord's great love we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail. They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness. I say to myself, 'The Lord is my portion; therefore I will wait for him." 

The more discouraged I felt, the more emphatically I said the words. Even if I didn't feel them, I said them. I determined to hear their truth and trust it would settle over my wounded soul. 

I felt consumed, but I chose to believe I was not consumed. I felt that I had been failed on all sides, and sometimes it even felt like God had failed me, but I chose to believe the words of Scripture that He never fails. 

When I thought back to that memory this week, I could see those moments so very completely. I could feel the carpet under my bare feet as I paced back and forth. I could feel the blast of the window air conditioner as I paced in front of it. I could hear the bobble in my voice as I spoke aloud words that were so hard to believe. I could feel the slick leather of the Bible in my hand as I bent the front half of it back to see the words on the page. I could see the thick waxy yellow highlighter scribbled across those words so my eyes could find them faster. 

The words were true, by the way.

I was not consumed, because of the Lord's great love.

His compassions never failed.

They were new every morning.

His faithfulness was great.

He was my portion.

I waited for Him, though it was not easy.

Your details might be different than mine. My own details of now are different than they were then. But you know what is not different? God's Word. The truths that sustained me in those days are the same truths that sustain me today - and can sustain you, too.

(And if you're struggling to believe, the pace-and-pray method is a good use of time. I recommend it.) 

Reimagining

We've had some time over these past few days to sit and think. To pray. To reflect. 

There isn't a prescribed way to grieve. There's no predictor of the things that come to mind or how to process through them. We just take it all as it comes, sorting along the way. 

Ryan and I have always been planners and dreamers. It's in both our natures, and we love spending our time imagining what's to come. The sudden changes have been jarring reminders that we can dream all we want, but we have no guarantees of the outcome.

The sudden changes have also been convicting reminders to live well. To live fully. To make the most of the moments we have together. To make the most of the words we speak.

Sometimes we have to reimagine life in ways we never expected. Ryan mentioned to me yesterday that he never imagined he would have lost both his mom and Allen at the same age that my parents were when I was born to to them. (Another event that caused the reimagination of life in unexpected ways...but I digress.) 

But sometimes reimagining life in ways we never expected can be a beautiful thing. It can be a chance to pause. To think through the things that matter most. To let go of things that have cluttered the way. To grab hold of things that matter most. To make fresh commitments to the things God has asked.

Reimagining is not reinventing. I have become less and less of a fan of the term reinvent as I've gotten older. Maybe to me it just feels like a recipe for failure. Reinventing feels like an attempt to control by forcing life and circumstances to go the way I want them to go. It feels a bit like a show. A facade, even.

But reimagining feels to me like taking hold of what you have in front of you and daring to believe that God can saturate it. That He can take what others meant for evil and use it for something good instead. That He can restore what the locusts have eaten. That he can take ashes and strife and make something beautiful. (Yes, I know that is mixing Scripture and Gaither lyrics all in the same paragraph.) 

But as we stand in our grief, I'm grateful for a God who pushes us to reimagine. This is not what we would have imagined (or chosen) for our lives. These last two years surprised us in hard ways. But God is present and active. He can teach us to reimagine the days ahead without forgetting the legacy left behind. 

May we honor those legacies by reimagining well.

Melty No Bake Cookies

 It may seem strange to share a recipe in a season of grief, but I have a specific reason for doing so today. 

Actually, it seems like seasons of grief are all about sharing consolation through food. People show up on doorsteps of the grieving, throwaway pans in hand, offering nourishment, because they know there truly isn't anything they can offer to ease the pain. They don't bring the food to ease the pain. They bring the food to ease the burden of daily life so those in mourning can sit in their pain and work through their grief. It's a beautiful gift to offer, really. 

I remember it when Ryan's mom died, and our church, our small group, our friends all stopped over with offerings of this or that so we didn't have to worry about meal planning in our season of funeral planning. I appreciated it so much. 

Allen had a sweet tooth, and he was usually first in line for a sampling whenever I made a dessert for a family gathering. (And I almost always sign up to make desserts for family gatherings.) He'd wander out of his way to find me and let me know I'd done it again: sugary perfection. He'd tell me how he probably shouldn't have a second, but he would anyway, and we both knew it. 

He loved no-bakes, and he was fond of this particular recipe that I found within the last couple of years. I actually have a no bake recipe on my blog that I posted back in 2014, but this one has just a couple of slight alterations, and I think they make all the difference. I made these for our tenants recently and they went wild over them. (They're good about compliments, but they don't typically gush over recipes.)

Because he loved them so much, I thought I'd share this one with you today. 

Melty No No Bake Cookies

* 2 Cups Sugar
* 4 Tablespoons Cocoa
* 1/2 Cup Butter
* 1/2 Cup Milk
* 1 Cup Crunchy Peanut Butter
* 1 Tablespoon Pure Vanilla
* 3 1/4 Cups Old Fashioned Oats

In a large sauce pan, combine sugar, butter, cocoa, and milk. Stir frequently while heating to boiling and then boil for one minute. Remove from heat and add peanut butter, vanilla, and oats and stir until well mixed. Roll out waxed paper on a flat surface and drop batter from a small cookie scoop. Let sit until hardened. Serve and eat quickly! (That last part will just happen on its own.)

A Few Tips

* We only buy almond milk now, and while I realize there is basically NOTHING about this recipe that is healthy, I have been using almond milk in it so I don't have to purchase separate milk. I can't taste anything different about it at all. You can use whatever kind of milk you usually have. 

* We also only buy crunchy peanut butter, so I started using that in my no bakes, and that seems to be the part people love most. The little extra crunch of tiny nuts in the cookies is a game changer! Of course, if all you have is creamy, that's fine too.

* As you probably know if you've been around here very long, I only ever use pure vanilla extract. No imitation here. I think it makes everything better. 

* We only buy old fashioned oats, and while I realize that isn't the norm for no bakes, it's what we use, and I like them better. I like the bigger pieces. 

* I also like using a cookie scoop to drop them, so all the cookies are even. Or almost even, anyway.

Hope you enjoy!! No bakes are a great comfort cookie and they're ready in no time!

Memories

Ryan and I have been combing through pictures of Allen's life, and if you've been reading here long enough to know about Nita's fond affection for pictures, you know that is no small task. So many pictures from sixty-five years of life. Add to that the offerings sent my way from Ryan's siblings...let's just say we're swimming in memories over here.

Of course let's pause for just a minute to show a throwback I found of someone else you might know...

Ahhh...1997. You were a gem to all of us.

But I've loved some of the pictures I found in my own files of our life together with Allen. He didn't adore pictures like Nita did, so I tried not to Bekah-razzi him too much, but here were some of my favorites. 

This is the first picture we had together with them. This is less than a month before Ryan and I got engaged and we had gone to see them for part of a day while they were visiting the lake. Nita set up the tripod in the living room at the cottage and snapped this picture.

Here's one of my all-time favorites. Clearly it's from our wedding, but I have always thought Allen looked like a bodyguard in this picture. :) 

Another wedding picture. Allen really didn't love traveling much at all, but I heard he had a lot of fun visiting Florida for our wedding!

This is the last family picture we had together, which was taken over a year ago, during Christmas 2019. It was the first and last family picture he would have without Nita. 

One of my favorites that I took of him...at his grandson's birthday party. He did love his grandchildren - so very much.

This was taken the year Nita was sick and we hosted Christmas at our house, so she didn't have to travel as far:

This one is one of Ryan's sister's favorites. I grabbed it on the fly during her surprise 40th birthday party. This was about two days after we found out Ryan's mom was sick, and it had been such a difficult week. We were all emotionally exhausted, but so glad to celebrate Lori that night. She sent this to me the other night and thanked me for taking it. 

The first county fair after Nita's death was a hard one for everyone. It was something the whole family loved enjoying together! Ryan and I went for an evening, as we always did, and we happened to run into Allen while we were there. We stopped for some ice cream with him, and I really love this picture of him with Ryan. 

I took this one the summer after Nita died. The whole family came together to pour the foundation for the grave stone (by hand). After they finished the cement, Allen and all the kids and grandkids made a handprint. He went first, and this was his print. 

And for today, I'll close with this one. We took it last summer when he came to kayak with us. I'm so glad he did that. It's one of those things we'll never have a chance to do again, now, and I'm so glad we had that day. 

So many great memories...and so many more yet to be uncovered as I continue my combing project. I'm so glad we're picture-crazy in this family. We're all enjoying them now! 

Sunday Sentiments

Lent began this week, and even though everything about our entire week has been out of sorts, I've been committed to staying on track with the study I wanted to do this Lenten season. I'm catching little nuggets from Scripture I've never noticed before, even though I've studied some of these same passages in-depth before. 

One night I read through the passage about Jesus staying in the Temple as a young boy. You might remember it...but if not, you can read about it in Luke 2:41-50.

As I read and studied, these words stuck out to me: After the festival was over...the boy Jesus stayed behind in Jerusalem.

This collective world hasn't participated in too many events over the past year, but you still remember what events are like, right? You attend them and then they conclude. There is always a definite ending point. A benediction. Concluding speech. Final farewell. You say your goodbyes, gather up your things, and head home.

Events don't typically have an encore. Everyone understands that when the agenda reaches its last item and the clock reflects the end, its just over. You might be sad that it's over. You might be ready to sign up for next year's program. But this one is done.

Jesus went with His parents for the Festival of the Passover. Passover had been happening for hundreds of years. Everyone knew how it worked. They knew when it started, how it progressed, and when it ended. They knew the road that led them there and the road that led them home. 

The Festival ended. The people headed home. 

Except for Jesus.

He stayed.

He stayed not because He wanted to run away from His family. He stayed not because He was having a fun vacation and He wanted more time. He stayed because He wanted to go to the Temple and sit at the feet of the teachers to listen and talk. 

He wanted to be in His Father's House. 

He didn't care that the prescribed Festival agenda had ended. He didn't care that it was time to go home. He didn't care that He was "supposed to" go home for another year. He let His desire to be near the Father override the schedule.

That struck me as I studied. It reminded me a bit of times I've been in church services where the altars were lined with people praying at the end. The pastor would say that the church service had ended, and everyone was welcome to leave if they wanted or needed to. But the church would stay open until the altar was clear. If anyone needed to stay and pray, they could. It didn't matter that it was past the end of the regular service time. 

I came away from that night of study challenged to desire staying in God's presence, even after its "time to leave." Even if I stay alone. Even if no one else realizes I've stayed. Even if no one understands why I did. 

May I always want to stay. 

The Saturday Six

Usually I collect items for the Saturday Six throughout the week. With the unexpected twists and turns to our week, I am sitting down very late on Friday night to START this post. For that reason, I apologize ahead of time. We'll hope there turn out to be six. We hope there is depth in SOMETHING. Don't look for it in #1. 

Okay I normally don't do game stuff on the Six, but this made me giggle last night and goodness knows we could use some laughter, right? So one of my friends posted this to Facebook:

You know I couldn't pass that up, right? So I scrolled back through my phone and learned that I haven't taken any selfies lately. (I have of the two of us, but not of just myself.) When I finally found one, I had to laugh because it's actually decent. 

Well that's no fun for this game, right? So I kept scrolling. Ahhhh, there it is:

Thanks for playing along. 

Two.

I have not tried this recipe, but it looks really delicious to me. (More so because I've learned that you can buy sweet potato cubes in the frozen section!) I would use ground turkey - but otherwise it's exactly something we'd love!

Three.

Not gonna lie: I thought of my sister when I saw this one. She's pretty much the world's coolest Nana, and I could totally see her doing this for my great-niece. 

Four.

I'm filing this away for my future home decor ideas. I was in our car this week and heard our wedding song. I think it would be perfect for one day to put with some of our wedding photos!

Five.

Several years ago, I went on a weekend girls trip with Lynnette...some of you might remember it! We visited the Biltmore and had all kinds of fun celebrating her birthday. We checked out a couple of stops on the Blue Ridge Parkway, and I loved it. I have it on my list of places I'd love to go with Ryan. (And this time I want to travel the whole thing!) So this list...I could spend hours dreaming! 

Six.

As I close out this week, I just want to say thank you for all the kind words you shared this week as we have grieved Allen's unexpected passing. I haven't been able to respond to every comment yet, but thank you for your kindness, your love, and your prayers. I wanted to share the obituary with you today as I close this list. 

What Would Your Life Say?

When Nita died, Allen asked if I would write her obituary. It both deeply honored and terrified me. Of course I wanted to do that for her...for him. But how could I possibly pay justice to an entire life in such a small space?

The evening after we received the stunning news of Allen's death, all the siblings gathered on a Zoom call to see each other, reminisce, make plans, and grieve.

During that call, Ryan asked if anyone wanted to write the obituary or if they wanted me to do it. They said they wanted me to write it, and that same feeling of honor/terror settled back over me. 

The next day I gathered up notes from emails and phone calls, locked myself in the office, and wrote until it was completed.

Allen lived a full and rich life, even though we anticipated him to live many more full and rich years. I wanted to honor his life well and convey not just the necessary obituary news, but the story of his life. The essence of who he was. 

You know me. I'm wordy. Confining it to a page seemed impossible. 

But I worked and crafted and hope I came away with something that would have pleased him if he had read it. 

There is a deep conviction that comes from thinking about what your obituary would say. How would you hope to be remembered? What pieces of your life would you wish to rise to the top and be mentioned as a final tribute for those who knew you and an introduction for those who didn't? 

It's sobering. It's convicting. It's encouraging.

We've been freshly reminded through this loss that none of us knows how many days we have left on this earth. May our days be filled with choices that would fill our obituaries with a legacy for future generations. May we live in ways that spur on the generations behind us to live full, rich, and faithful lives.

These are the thoughts filling my mind today as I think about the words I wrote. What would your life say? 

Loss.

Yesterday I shared about the devo I encountered that convicted me to lean into hardships and find ways to become more Christlike through them. I wasn't free to share more details of our hardship at that time, but today I am, so I wanted to catch you up.

Ryan and I had just gone to bed Monday evening...early Tuesday morning, actually. We were in that state of falling asleep where our eyes were too heavy to stay open, but sleep hadn't fully claimed us yet. A buzzing startled us and we sat up to see Ryan's phone lighting up. 

It was his brother. Middle-of-the-night phone calls never bring good news, do they?

Ryan answered and I knew from his end that it wasn't good, but I didn't know who it involved. My mind raced through all the aging family members. It bounced from name to name, and before I could land on an answer the call ended. Ryan turned to me, wide-eyed, and I squeaked out my one-word question: who?

"It's Allen."

Allen wasn't on my list. Allen, Ryan's step-dad. Allen, Nita's husband. Allen who kayaked with us last summer. Allen who just talked to Ryan on the phone last week. 

It couldn't be Allen. He was in good health. 

But it was Allen.

He was gone without warning. We sat in bed and stared blankly at the wall ahead of us as our bodies began to shake with shock. 

We crawled out of the bed we'd just crawled into and paced through the apartment, gasping for breath and gasping with grief.

Who do you call at one in the morning? You need people but there aren't any. Not in that hour.

I called my parents. Ryan called his uncle. Their speechlessness matched ours. We had no words, reasons, explanations, details, or anything else. Just a shocking loss. 

For all of the many months of illness and hospice and say-all-you-need-to-say conversations and pictures that we had with Nita prior to her death, we had only what-ifs and when-did-I's and if onlys to consider throughout that long, sleepless night.

We sat on the couch, hand in hand, reading Scripture, crying, praying, and dozing now and then. 

Allen was a pretty private person, especially when it came to the world of the internet. He didn't like too much being said about Nita when she was sick, and he was deeply reluctant to share too much of his own life online. For that reason, I'll respect his privacy here and not share details that I sense he would have preferred we hold close. 

But I will share that we are deep in grief. It's a whole different road than the one we walked with Nita. Not only in the surprise, but in sorting through details from a distance, and so much more. 

Our hearts are broken. We're broken for our own loss, and we're broken for Ryan's two sisters, Allen's daughters. Both of them lost their mothers and now their father all in two years. 

But we grieve while bathed in the hope of Heaven. Allen missed Nita so profoundly, and now they get to be together in the Lord's presence. We celebrate that even while we mourn and grieve.

Thank you for your gentleness with us as we navigate this unfamiliar territory. I will do my best to have my thoughts collected when I come to you each day, but I may be scattered. 

And if I could be so bold...would you pray for my Ryan? Yes, Allen was his step-father. Yes, his father is still living. I always make sure to draw those label distinctions in print out of respect for his father who is a kind and wonderful man who is part of Ryan's life and is so good to him. But Allen was part of Ryan's life from a very young age, and that whole "step" thing is not a label that family uses. Allen considered Ryan his son as much as if he'd been his own flesh and blood. The grief of this loss is profound for Ryan. It's not a step-loss. It's a father-loss. 

Ryan is bold and brave and strong for his sisters, but his heart hurts as much as theirs. Pray for him - for us - as we walk this road?

Thank you, friends.

(This is the last photo I have of the two of them together. From a photo-composition standpoint, it's terrible. Captured completely on the fly. But from a memory-standpoint, it's priceless, and I treasure it.)

We miss you, Allen. Thank you for welcoming both of us as your own. May you be generously welcomed Home to Heaven, your Savior, and your dear Nita. 

Embracing

Ryan and I sat with one of our tenants as she read through her daily devotional reading. She picked it at random and hit the audio button so we could all hear it together. I sank into the couch and closed my eyes to listen.

The day had been long, following a sleepless night. The hardest of unexpected news reached our ears just as we stretched out to sleep the night before. Jarred awake, we were up most of the night, praying, talking, processing. I hadn't even had a chance yet to journal my thoughts, and I ached for the rest of the work day to pass so I could retreat with my journal and release my heart to paper.

I tried to focus on the words I heard, hoping there might be a morsel contained within. My faith was weak - not able to trust that a reading picked randomly could be timely. 

I love it when God gifts mercy.

The man in the app read these words: "What if we instead embraced the hardships of life as an opportunity to not only know Jesus better, but to become more like Him along the way? That is the opportunity in front of us now."

I'll confess to you I have often used the hardships of life as an opportunity to know Jesus better, but I have not stopped to lean into allowing those same moments to mold me into becoming more like Him along the way.

Conviction.

Maybe you're in a hardship today? 

Lean in with me. 

My own words are few today, but I hope the impact of the borrowed words fills you as it did me.

Much love, friends. 

Driving Disdains

I saw a question posed on a list yesterday that said what was your first driving experience like?

Well that news can be delivered in one word: disastrous.

Back when I was in high school, getting your license was a big deal. I remember parents pulling students out of school on the very day they were eligible to become licensed drivers, and when they returned the next day, they flashed that little plastic card to everyone who would look their way. 

Not me.

I was eligible for my license in the summer, so Mom didn't have to pull me out of class, but even if that day had fallen in the school year, she wouldn't have had to do that. As the day neared when my waiver was about to expire, she had to practically push me to the BMV. I resisted the entire way and apparently heavy-sighed my way all the way through the written test. 

Mercifully, I passed the test and left with my own little piece of plastic that day.

And I didn't care one bit. 

I was still recovering from that first day of driving in driver's ed. I'd gone to the classes, which were basically summer school for us. I sat in the classroom, listened to the teacher, watched the videos, and did pretty well with the concept tests.

Then they divided us up into cars. Our car had three students and one instructor. I remember one of my fellow car-mates, but not the other one. But what I've never forgotten is that first few minutes behind the wheel.

Disastrous.

We got in the car and our instructor asked which of us had driven before. Two hands shot up to the roof of the vehicle. I squirmed nervously in my seat and didn't make eye contact. I was the one with conscientious parents who took seriously the rules that you shouldn't drive without a license. Dad had taken me to the church parking lot so I could get a small feel for the wheel and pedals, but I hadn't come anywhere near  a road. Not once. 

When it was my turn to drive, I slid into the front seat next to my very nervous instructor and tried to pretend I was totally cool with this experience. 

In the first thirty seconds, I rounded the corner onto Meridian Street and went straight up onto the curb. 

And from that moment forward, my instructor never unclenched his fingers from gripping the dashboard as long as I was behind the wheel. He made use of the emergency brake more with me than any other driver. I rarely made a decision he agreed with, and I'm guessing he only granted me the driving waiver so the BMV people didn't have to experience what he did.

And that's how I came to really dislike driving. From the time I got my license until I was a junior in college, I never drove on an interstate. Not once. 

For the entire four years I commuted to Fort Wayne and back every day, I still had to frequently pray my way through the interstate. I often ditched it and took a longer way home just to avoid clenching my jaw and forgetting to breathe. 

I'm grateful Ryan enjoys driving, and he does it always - unless he's sleepy. Then I take over. I'm really grateful Justine likes driving, so whenever we're on duty together, she can take that task, and I take something else.

Winter has arrived here just like it's probably arrived wherever you are. I've already offered to pull shoveling duty in exchange for driving duty. 

So what about you? How was your first driving experience? Do you like driving or would you rather have a chauffeur?

PS - I read this to Ryan, and he wants you to know he could not get his license fast enough. Apparently all that farm equipment training paid off for him, and he was ready. He went the first day he was eligible and has loved driving ever since. 

The Stuff of Dreams

We had a quiet evening last night...a perfect sort of date.

It was a throwback, in some ways, to the single years. The evenings were quiet then, too, but in a deafening sort of way. The kind of way where I could hear my heartbeat in my ears as I drank sparkling grape juice and munched on heart-shaped pizza by myself. I'd curl up with my journal and dream about love, yes, but more than just love. Life. Life that had elements of adventure, fun, and togetherness. The kind of life I determined could be real, even though everyone around me seemed to caution me not to get my hopes up too much.

But last night we sat at our breakfast bar, our dining table having been decommissioned due to its temporary use as a wood shop. 

I brought over the vase of twelve red roses Ryan bought for me. I know roses aren't for everyone, but I dearly adore them. We don't get them too often, but he never fails to make them appear on Valentine's Day, and I never fail to reposition them around the house so they're always in view.

We pulled out the fancy goblets and the bottle of sparkling grape juice we always/only get for special occasions. 

Ryan braved the cold to grill steaks, and he cooked tiny golden potatoes in the air fryer (a keeper of a cooking method, let me tell you). I baked asparagus with a hint of olive oil, seasoned salt, and almond slivers and tried out a salted caramel fondue as the inaugural recipe in our fondue pot. 

We plated it all enjoyed every bite. (Well, Ryan did. I saved some of my bites for the next meal.)

Food aside, though, we had great conversation while we ate. 

One of Ryan' questions to me was this: Is marriage what you hoped?

I thought for a minute - back to those Valentine nights alone at the coffee table with my heart shaped pizza. I thought of what I hoped for, but I also remembered the admonitions from others that it wasn't reality. 

I looked him in the eye and said, "Marriage is what I hoped, but but it's more than I dared to hope it could actually be, if that makes any sense."

We talked about the things we've loved most. The grand adventures. The daily moments. The fun. The laughter. Working through the hard. 

We talked about how we hope those looking in from the outside see our joy and gratitude for this life. How we hope to be an example just by being. 

It was the perfect evening. Warm and cozy inside, delicious food, good dream-filled questions. I'm grateful. 

Perfect Love

The day we were married, we had two sets of vows. One set came from the internet and matched traditional wedding vows...in no way. I've heard sentimental souls say they loved using traditional vows in their weddings, knowing they were making the same promises made thousands of times before, because they knew those promises could be kept. Thousands of others had proved them true. Had I heard that exact devotion to standard vows prior to our wedding, I might have been tempted to adopt the same viewpoint. I, too, am sentimental, after all. 

But I didn't hear those thoughts until well after the wedding, and we decided to choose different vows because we wanted a different sort of marriage. We wanted the vows to match everything else about our day, and unique seemed to be the most accurate representation of our choices. I loved our vows then and I still love them now. Even with the sentimentalists lobbying for the traditional vows, I would ultimately still choose the ones we chose because they are dear to my heart. They are ours. Even though I found them written by someone else, I've never actually heard them used in any other wedding, so they are extra dear to me.

But repeated vows aside, we also made promises to one another that we penned into letters we read aloud during our ceremony. One part of my letter that I've never forgotten (probably because our videographer put it in our wedding trailer video) was when I said to Ryan, "I am unguarded and unafraid in front of you."

I did the ugly cry through that part, because the words were true, and it really was the first relationship I'd ever had where I could actually say and mean those words. I don't want to tear down my previous boyfriends (there were only two) but it is true that I was never totally free in those relationships. There were moments of time when my heart felt light and trusting, but there were rocky seasons too, where I felt that something about the person I was...wasn't right. I wasn't enough or maybe I was too much. Either way, my heart needed a guard, and I built high walls around it to protect myself. 

Then came Ryan. Even after the initial twitterpation passed, I never felt the need to build a wall. I was unguarded and unafraid. I was totally Bekah, and he totally loved me. He loved me when I panicked - even without cause. He loved me when I laughed until I snorted. He loved me when I had wildly big ideas. He loved me when I was afraid of my own shadow. He loved me when I prayed. He loved me when I sang (not well) in the car beside him. 

In that way, our relationship really has taught me what it means to be loved unconditionally by the Lord. The Bible speaks of marriage being a picture of Christ and the church, and this is one of the ways I catch a glimpse of it. My understanding of God's unwavering love for me has deepened since I've understood Ryan's unconditional love. 

1 John 4:18 says that perfect love casts out fear. There's no room for fear in a heart that is fully and completely loved. It can be unguarded and unafraid.

I'm grateful for a husband who has shown me a glimpse of how God must feel about me. I'm grateful for friendships I have where I know I can be myself without reserve, and I'll be loved and accepted. The freedom that comes from casting out fear is a beautiful gift. 

On this day of love, my heart prays that you can know God's perfect love for you and that it would cast away any remnants of fear that compete for your attention.

Much love to you today!