This is Why Kids Are Born as Little Sleepy Babies

I used to babysit for a living. Back in high school, that is. Back when I had MUCH more energy than I have now. Tonight I revisited those days for just a few hours. I watched my "niece" and "nephew" while their parents went to a school meeting. Savannah is five. Liam is about a year and a half. Pick just one of them, and you'll find more energy than I have in my right arm. Add both of them together, and WOW. You parents...you're my heroes.

The evening was actually very fun, and I would do it all over again...right after I take a nap. But in the space of two hours, I was declared a tree branch (which meant I had to lay on the floor, have a beanbag chair placed on my back, and Savannah "the bird" took flying leaps into "the nest" I supported. When we were done with that, we took turns donning the empty Lego bucket on our heads. When Liam wore it, it came down over his shoulders and he roamed the house, randomly colliding with furniture, walls, you name it. When Savannah wore it, she spent so much time giggling and listening to her voice echo inside that she got the hiccups. When I wore it...well it didn't really fit me. My head's too big. (Phats, don't you dare comment on that.) But she was determined to make it fit, leaving me with some interesting head pains. We tried reading, but Liam kept stealing the books. He also tried ripping my earrings out of my ears. That was lotsa fun.

And then there are the "interesting moments" - like when I looked up in time to see Liam licking the mop. He was not happy when I took it away, but I just didn't think it was the best activity.

Or the moment when Savannah was trying to explain to me how to use the remote to play the DVD (why is it ALWAYS the children who have to explain the electronics to the adults?) and when I pressed the wrong button, she said to me, "You gotta listen to me, girl!" GIRL?? What happened to "Aunt Bekah?"

In the middle of all of that, we took lots of pictures, some of which Savannah insisted upon taking herself. I was trying to teach her to hold the camera still for a second after the flash while it captures...that took several tries. All to get a picture of the princess on the screen. And you can know that I was not about to figure out that remote enough to successfully pause and un-pause.

The evening was so great - nothing beats the hugs and kisses of nieces and nephews. But I have definitely concluded that this is why kids aren't born as toddlers and preschoolers. Parents have to work up to that energy level.

Happy Anniversary and A Little Laugh

A very happy FIFTY-THIRD wedding anniversary to my parents this fine day. Fifty-three years. That's a lotta marriage. Three years ago, the siblingettes and I threw a party for them - hope they're not looking for that this year. :)

I got them (don't tell them if you see them...) the old standby of Cracker Barrel gift cards, because that truly makes them happiest. The cats got them a picture. Technically the cats simply POSED for the picture and I did the work. The cats also submitted a pawprint (their version of a signature) on the matting around the picture. Do you know how much fun it is to corner a cat at six in the morning to get a paw print? And then I had to go around and clean the blue prints on the hardwood floor until the ink had worn off...

In other news...if you need a great Monday laugh, may I suggest that you visit the Hollands' blog? (Link at the left.) Pastor Brian is our youth pastor and he has as great story from this past Friday night. Makes me laugh every time I read it.

Bits for Sunday, August 19, 2007

I sat down to journal last night and before I even started writing, I thought, “This was a nearly perfect day.” Nothing spectacular happened. In five years (or five months) I probably won’t even remember August 18th. But that’s okay because it was still a good day, and good days deserve a celebration.

When I picked up my God Calling devotional, I found this among the thoughts for the day: You know the difference between taking a glad, loving, joy-springing child with you along a way, when the child anticipates each direction, accepts naturally each decision as to each turning – and the child who resists, and, rebellious, has to be forced, even though in its quieter moments it may say ‘Yes, I do want to go with you. I cannot be left alone, but I hate this way.’

Those of you who have kids may understand the difference a little bit better than I do. The only trips the kids in my house take end at the vet’s office, and we all cry the whole way there. (Thankfully it’s not far.) But for those of you with human children, I can imagine that a road trip is a lot more fun when the kids don’t start whining before you’ve left the driveway. Back in the day when I lived at home with my parents, they did a great job of planning stops along the way to the final destination. That helped. I always had a little something to look forward to while waiting for the grand finale.

Unfortunately, I don’t always grant God that same “pleasant traveler” attitude. He plans so many beautiful things along the way and I’m so bent on getting to whatever I think the destination should be that I miss all the scenery along the way.

I’ve been mulling that thought over today and I’ve concluded that this whole week has had good turns in the road. It had its rough parts too, for sure. I think some of you are still laughing about one in particular. And that is okay. I’m laughing too…now. There were other parts of the week that brought along a hurt here or there that I could have done without, but the joy-breaks more than made up for the rough parts.

* Joy was holding a five year old in church and hearing her sing loud and clear in my ear, “Blessed be the name of the Lord…” and knowing that she had no clue what she was saying when she sang “He gives and takes away…my heart will choose to say…blessed be Your name…” but also knowing that those words will come back someday when she is older and needs them.

* Joy was finding a super extra low price sale on clothes going out for the season…and not just any clothes, but the clothes I specifically hoped to find…and not only that, but buying a size smaller than last time!

* Joy was a gentle nudge from God calming me down from a statewide search (since the county clearly failed me) for a new work outfit for tomorrow as He reminded me that my source of strength does not come from clothes or shoes.

* Joy was a phone call from one of my friends…when I would never have expected the phone to ring…but when my heart needed a boost the most.

* Joy was having my friend Rachel agree to take time out of her workout schedule to teach me to use the weight machines at the gym and her encouragement over my puny attempts that one day we’ll both look back on with great laughter.

* Joy was staying home on Friday night and watching a movie of my own choosing and having a good cry. (I know, I know. Stupid chick flicks.)

* Joy was sleeping in until my eyes popped open yesterday morning and looking over an entire day with not a single plan that had to be done at any specific time.

* Joy was realizing last night that if I wanted to make the cheesy potato dish, it was okay to do that just for myself and I didn’t have to have a house full of company to make it legitimate.

* Joy was a successful Google search – just to find out that a face from a long ago time seems to be doing okay.

None of those joyful moments signaled the arrival at any destination, but they were still great moments. And I’m putting it high on my list of things this week to try to NOT be the kid God wants to pitch out of the car for excessive whining and complaining. I’m going to try to enjoy more of the journey and worry less about the destination.

Who Knew?

Last night, one of the girls from the office took me to the gym to teach me how to use the weight machines. I wanted to go before campus filled up with skinny girls who would just stare at me in my baggy t-shirt with a look of "yeah YOU shoulda been in here all summer." Fortunately, last night the gym contained very few people, even though most of them were guys who clearly live there at least on a part time basis.

Despite my worries, I went in and gave it my best shot. It was pathetically puny at best for some of the machines, but on a few, I did pretty well. We ended with a bike ride - where Rachel was mentally in the Tour de France and I was just taking a leisurely stroll through the country. No wonder she's so tiny!

This morning, though, MAMA! I didn't know God put muscles in all those places! WOW! When I started to wash my hair, my shoulders said NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! But if I'm gonna take care of this Bricker swing (flabby arms) I'm going to have to spend more time with the skinnies at the gym, regardless of how humiliating it is.

How Did they DO It?

Last night I was fast asleep when I thought for sure I heard a noise. I did. My phone. Text message. It was Tina, letting me know we were under a tornado warning. Can I just back up and tell those of you who don't know me very well...I FREAK OUT in storms. I'm going to be one of those moms someday who totally scars her kids for life because she can't keep it together in a storm. High on the list of things I want in a husband, behind a willingness to handle the money and an ability to kill spiders is someone who can keep me from hyperventilating in a storm. He doesn't have to like storms. He just has to keep me from losing my mind AND my lunch.

I turned on the TV and found that we were, in fact, under a warning. So I called my Mom. I didn't care that it was 12:15 in the morning. If I was going down, I wasn't going down alone. She had the scanner on and was trying to talk me through the storm.

As I paced randomly throughout the house, looking outside now and then, I began to remember all the things Lori and Jeff said they should have taken/hidden/etc. I started randomly throwing things in my house into safe places and yelling for the cats to maybe REMEMBER their love of the bathtub and get in it. As things started to pick up, I realized I was shoeless - a problem my niece had after the tornado. So I rounded up some shoes and began looking for a safe place. It doesn't exist in my house. I was just gonna hafta fly through the air if it really it.

When the rain and wind started, I looked outside and thought "How in the world did Lori, Jeff, and Cassie live through something ten times this fierce?" My goodness. A whole new respect.

So if you write me today and receive a ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ for a response, you'll know that my lack of sleep caught up with me.

REBUILDING: Back to School

It's been a while since I've given a Kansas update, but tonight, to keep myself occupied while exercising, I talked to Lori for about 45 minutes. So I have the latest and greatest.

School starts tomorrow in Greensburg, and I think it will be an interesting day for them, to say the least. Classes, offices, the library...all of them are in portable trailers. As of today, sidewalks were still being poured and much last minute preparation was underway. Lori said that the elementary school library is stocked with so many books that were donated from all over. (No shelves for them yet, but the books are there!) She also said that tomorrow is an even more important hair day than the first day of school normally would be...because of course the media will show up. :)

She told me that 74% (I think that was the number) of students who were there last year are back - and at the high school level, that number is closer to 98 or 99%. It's easier for high school students to transport themselves if they live far away now, and of course if you've gone all those years to one school, your loyalties are a little stronger.

Transportation is an issue. Those who aren't living in the FEMA trailers in town are commuting from 10-40 miles away, and in addition to coming to Greensburg for school, there are additional travels required for sports practices, which are happening in other towns. I think it will take a while for them to get all that figured out - but eventually they'll get there.

They're still waiting for their own house construction to start, but they're getting along well in their temporary home.

So that's an update in the land of great wind!

Progress

Well even though there are areas of life that consistently fall apart, it's good to see something that moves forward. Today that progress award goes to my precious Burger King.

Yesterday I drove to the far away one just because I couldn't handle another day without a BK French Fry. Roberta was working there. Sad that I know the names of the BK people, but I do. She is temporarily displaced to the far away BK while mine is under construction. I told her I missed her - also sad, but very true.

She told me that the target opening day is September 1 - but maybe, get this, EARLIER!!! Does this ever happen in a construction project? She made my whole day.

So amid my chaos, I count down to BK's new day.

Bits for Sunday, August 12, 2007

Well it’s been an interesting week here in Bekahland. There are weeks that just exude confidence and then there are weeks that just confirm the need to crawl under a rock…or move to Nebraska and start over.

This week was more the second sort of week for me.

You've already read the post about my rather awkward impression with my new boss this past Wednesday. That started my week rolling. (If you haven't read it....just keep scrolling.)

Although I worried that he might be scared of me after that, a couple of days later, he did venture past my door again. This time I was eating my peanut butter and jelly toast sandwich that I have every morning. Great. A few hours later that same day, he wandered by again, this time with his family in tow, showing them all of our offices. I was munching on a cookie that time.
So now I’m pretty sure that he thinks I’m only capable of eating and crying. Kind of like…a baby?

And let’s not forget Friday night. I left work, anxious to get my walking out of the way and settle down for a long evening’s scrap, so I changed from my work clothes to my workout clothes as quickly as I could.

Apparently I changed a little too quickly. About 11:30 that night, when I was getting ready for bed, I discovered my tank top was on backwards. The v-neck was shooting right down my back. Had I only been inside the house that night…no biggie. But of course I’d walked four miles AND made a coffee run when I was done. A coffee run in which I ran into our student worker and her friend. No wonder her friend gave me some weird looks! Who’s the idiot who can’t dress herself correctly?

Yes, there are weeks when to hibernate or move seems preferable to getting up the next day and trying again. At least trying again with the same crowd of people from the day before. And while I generally have a pretty good sense of humor, when dumb moments like this (combined with other dumb moments I’ve blocked out) pile up in a rapid fashion, I lose sight of the humor altogether.

I was looking for something in Ron Mehl’s book God Works the Night Shift, when I found this that I’d underlined on a read-through many months ago. Ron quoted Psalm 40:1, which says, “I waited patiently for the Lord; and He inclined to me, and heard my cry.” He says, “The Hebrew word for ‘inclined,’ natah, paints a very tender image. It’s the picture of a young child trying to get a busy dad’s attention. The child tugs on Dad’s pants leg and the big man stops everything he’s doing, sets it aside, gets down on one knee, looks his child right in the eyes, and says, ‘Okay, honey, I’m listening. I’m all ears.’ Natah implies a bending down to listen, a focused attention, a willingness to turn aside and hear every word…Everyone in the world might be too busy or too preoccupied to hear my cry for help, weak as it is. But God hears me! God drops His intergalactic agenda and falls to one knee to listen to my words.”

And that is a good thing. On the days when I do dumb things like snot all over a new boss or wear my shirt backwards, or say something I didn’t mean, or worry about something completely preposterous, or have a ridiculous dream that proceeds to make me unable to return to sleep…God cares about that. And He doesn’t think I need to crawl under a rock or move to Nebraska. He just listens. Mops up the tears. Laughs (only at the appropriate time). Sends a hug.

And I like that.

Random Ridiculousness

Wednesday evening, one of my co-workers invited a couple of us over to go swimming in her pool. It was my first swim of the season. I think I'm running behind. Anyway, I'd never been to her house before, but it was VERY nice and the perfect night for swimming. (One of those 400 degree days.) Anyway, she took this picture and when she showed it to me at work the next day, I said, "It kind of looks like I have no lower body and I have this giant prosthetic uni-foot thing going on under the water there." We laughed about it.

Christina, this one's for you - and if you don't understand what I'm talking about, check your email. :) For the rest of you...this is how I know I have a serious scrapbooking problem. I've been buying out all the glue stick sales from the back-to-school bins. I have bought a total of 55 packs (2 sticks per pack) this season, and I'm hoping that will last me through Christmas cards and a little bit of scrapping.

Life at Our House

Kaegan and Braeya sometimes play together. And by that, I mean Kaegan is sitting quietly minding his own business when Braeya attacks him and insists that he participate until she's bored. And she gets bored...well...never.

Last Friday night I was packing for a scrap day on Saturday, and as I worked in the office, Kaegan decided to nap in the suitcase (Skyepuppy...I know you use your suitcases for travel. I use mine to transport stamps and ink pads.) Braeya came in and pounced on Kaegan...and nap time was over. He mostly just sat inside the suitcase while she batted him from the outside.


Later, a very dignified Kaegan took a rest by the bookcases. Yes, his eyes always look this evil in pictures.


Braeya's new favorite sleeping place. Not sure why!

The Nameless Baby

When I was in college, one of my writing professors described the writing process as being similar to giving birth. You conceive an idea and nurture it along and then it's birthed in a book. I was skeptical at the time, but having written a couple of book length works now, I see her point.

Here's my problem. My most recent writing baby is nameless. I have a cheat sheet at home with about 15 titles of books I hope to write...and a book written with no title in sight. It's like having a nine month old kid with no name! So frustrating!

Titles have never been my strong point. In fact, most of what I wrote in college and probably 90% of my published articles were titled by my friends. Perhaps I should track some of those college friends down and tell them to give me a title for this book!

I didn't worry about it for a while. I thought the title would just pop up in a chapter somewhere and I'd know it when I saw it typing out on the screen. That didn't happen. I thought the title might appear in repeated phrases that showed up repeatedly of their own accord throughout the book. It didn't work. I thought it would just mysteriously settle into my brain. Nope.

Do you know how hard it is to write a query letter to pitch a book that has no name?

You know, Chris Rice's "Untitled Hymn" did pretty well on the charts....maybe I should just call this one "Untitled Advent Thoughts" and forget it.

Perfect Timing (eyeroll)

I had a meltdown at work this morning. It's been a good three months since I've done that. I think my last meltdown was tornado related. I've not even cried at all much lately - at work or at home. I've been very proud of that because it's quite an accomplishment for me.

But today - meltdown.

Not sure what sparked it. I'm absolutely exhausted, so I'm sure that was a major contributing factor. The weather is sapping me of whatever energy I had left (walking last night about killed me). I feel like I've gained 50 pounds in the last 2 days, and I know I haven't - but the clothes that are clean are the old baggy clothes. So somehow all of that together plus who knows what else factored in equals a meltdown.

So it was about 8:05, and I was in my office, door closed, losing my mascara when there was a knock on the door. I tried to compose myself (RIGHT!) and leaned back to open the door.

Definitely the new boss at the door.

Great. Aren't first impressions just the best???

How do you even recover from that? I just kind of mopped tears out of my eyes and said "Uh, how's your wife? How's your kids? How's my makeup?"

No More Like

Alright. I've had it. Before I climb up onto my soapbox and begin speaking, allow me to say that I am not completely void of this issue in my own life. But there's a line, people. A line. And I think you know when you've crossed it.

My pet peeve of today? Overuse of the word "like." According to the fine folks over at Merriam-Webster, like means to enjoy something or that two things are similar. It does not mean "said" - which is my own misuse of it ("I asked her if she wanted to go and she was like 'no.'") It is also not a filler word for sentences - which is where the LINE IS CROSSED.

In other words, if you call someone, your opening line(s) should not sound like (appropriately used...because I meant similar) this: "Hi, I'm like calling to like see if you could like help me with this like question I like have? I like need to like know if like I can like change like something without like everything else like changing?"

Seriously? That deserves an answer?


AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! Okay I'm like fine now. Or at least I like think so.

Bits for Sunday, August 5, 2007

Once again, I’m not sure what to write about…and once again, the lack of writing material will not keep me from turning out two pages of yap.

I actually had great plans for what to say today. As of this morning, we officially have 89 days until this ridiculousness that is daylight savings time comes to an end…and I was going to write a tribute to the 80’s, counting backwards from 1989. But so many of those years are such a blur to me…especially 1981 when I was three. So I scrapped that plan.

And in the true fashion of lack of material, I reached into the Bekah-archives and found something for you. This is an excerpt of an article I wrote in college – and I called it “Daddilies.” The title is a spin-off of a book my Mom used to have, called “Mommilies” – and it shares all the things that Moms are so famous for saying and doing. (Speaking of which…Christian comedienne Anita Renfroe has the most hysterical set of “Mommilies” put to music. She has condensed every stereotypical Mom phrase to three minutes and sings them to the William Tell Overture. She was on Life Today last week and performed that song – I was crying by the end, and I’m not even a Mom. If you want to see it, you can go here - choose the Tuesday, July 31 broadcast - and hear her comedy followed by the song.)

So anyway, here’s one of the “Daddilies” I wrote about back in college:

Before retirement, Dad lived the life of a normal school teacher. He got up early, went to work, came home, graded papers, made tests and study guides, recorded and figured grades, plus all his household duties. Now that he’s retired, he lives the life of (I guess) a normal retired person. I’m not sure, but I think there must be a book out there somewhere that instructs retirees on what they are supposed to do once they have received the gold watch.

Promptly upon retirement, Dad developed an obsession with birds. We never had a single bird feeder during my growing up years. Now we have at least half a dozen…maybe more. We have the standard feeders and special feeders for finches, hummingbirds, bluebirds, and who knows what else. We also acquired a bird bath not too long ago.

One thing I didn’t realize for a long time is that just having the feeders and bath is not enough. You also have to plant vast amounts of flowers to attract the birds. I affectionately refer to our flowers as the weed patch. Our sweet little courtyard in the back has been overtaken by plants and bushes of all kinds, and there is some leafy monstrosity climbing up the side of our house. All this, you understand, is to attract the hummingbirds. Ironically, the leafy monstrosity has completely grown over one of the hummingbird feeders. You cannot see it at all. Mom and Dad say they never see any hummingbirds. I am quite convinced they are out there a lot, but you just can’t see them on account of the weeds.

Our finch feeder has nearly been swallowed by a gigantic sunflower that adorns the side of the barn. I would not even begin to tell you what kinds of plants have made a home under the big tree where most of the feeders hang. I do know that there used to be a lattice board next to the bird bath, but you can’t see that anymore on account of all the plants.

Another thing you need to know about bird obsessions…you must have a pair of binoculars, and a subscription to a bird magazine. Now I’m not against the binocular thing. I have used them on several occasions to try to see accidents out on the highway, whether or not our neighbors had electricity during a power outage, and a number of other fun sights. But to use them to see a bird two feet outside the back door? Give me a break!

I really knew Dad had reached a problem spot on this obsession when I saw him standing at the window one day saying, “Yeah we’ve had a hummingbird since seven this morning. Look at how much is gone out of that feeder!”

So that’s the Daddily for the week. I’ve long since moved out, but the bird/feeder/flower obsession has continued even in my absence. So far, it hasn’t continued here in my world. I do have a bird bath, but only because it was here when I moved in and to move it would have broken my back (and left a naked spot in the grass).

And just so you’ll know – Dad doesn’t care that I pick on him. He always says it means I’m leaving someone else alone. (All the Wal-Mart customers should thank him…)

Moment of Silence

I thought if I didn't talk about it, it wouldn't happen, but denial did not serve me well this time.

The Hobby Lobby is closing.

I find myself unable to breathe....

A Response!

Brandon - I completely forgot to tell you this when I saw you at the viewing. I heard back from Focus on the Family. I sent that letter and got a token automated response four days later. The pre-fab paragraph said I would be contacted later if my message required further response.

Yesterday I received a real answer from a real person and I appreciated that. The person who wrote to me was from the President's Office and said she would also forward my email to the broadcasting staff.

I'm very satisfied with that. I just needed to know that someone other than a computer saw my letter. I would still like to pursue the issue further - probably in my own writing - but I'm glad to have been acknowledged!

THANK YOU, NUTZ!

Wow - you've made a post title twice in one day! You should feel so special.

THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU for finding the daylight savings ticker for me. This will make the next 92 days of my life go so....slowly. :)

For Nutz and Phats

Since Sadie is clearly more popular than Kaegan and Braeya....here's a couple more pictures of her that her owner sent me. Apparently this is how Sadie stops to smile on command when the camera makes an appearance.

D-O-N-E With Daylight Savings

Last year (our first year to participate in daylight savings) I fought the concept of time change. As if I had a voice - HA! I had lived all my life in the same time and never had a problem. I didn't want to see it change. My friend Mike (work buddy) tried valiantly to persuade me that it was a good thing - a great thing, in fact. HA.

This year I tried to approach it with a more positive, embracing attitude. And as much as it pains me to say this, I've somewhat appreciated the additional evening hours. It's helped outside exercise go much more smoothly.

Having said that - apparently my brain and body are DONE saving. About two weeks ago, against everything I've tried to trick myself with, my sleep pattern has gone back to the normal time zone. I barely make it to work on time and I can't go to sleep at night, no matter how early I get in bed, no matter how soon I cut off the caffeine, no matter...anything.

The new girls at work (who have only known me during the savings time) are starting to see Ugly Morning Bekah for the first time. I try to reiterate the importance of approaching me with caution before my coffee is completely consumed...but I don't think they are taking me seriously.

When again does it change back? How much longer do I have to put up with this? They need a daylight savings ticker for blogs like they have pregnancy monitoring tickers. I need a countdown.

Bits for Sunday, July 29, 2007

I used to babysit for a family who celebrated their children’s spiritual birthdays like any other real birthday. Complete with cake. I like the idea. And my own spiritual birthday (or the day I count as my spiritual birthday) is pretty easy to celebrate with not just cake –but all sorts of food. It happened sometime between 11:30 and midnight on New Year’s Eve when I was eleven. There’s all sorts of parties happening right at that time every year. But because it is such a significant day for me, I usually choose to ring in the new year with reflection. And food.

But if that is my spiritual birthday, then the last week in July must be more like an anniversary of some sort. It was during that week in 1996 that I made the transition from being a faith-moocher (stringing along behind my parents) to a faith-owner. I’ve written about it before. I was eighteen years old and two weeks into my first ever job outside of the babysitting enterprise. The assistant manager at the place where I worked, a twenty-one year old guy and the only friend I felt I had during business hours, took a week off work just to hang out and have fun. And on the first day of his summer vacation, the driver of a car didn’t see him on his motorcycle and he was gone.

And as I said before when I’ve written about it, that’s a tough spot for a girl who doesn’t know that her own time has come. Not her time to die – but her time to choose for herself Whom she would serve – and whether or not this faith stuff she said she believed really meant anything.

On July 25, 1996, I sat down on my white metal daybed in my bedroom and opened my book to Psalm 86. I found verses like Hear my prayer, O Lord; Listen to my cry for mercy. In the day of my trouble I will call to you for you will answer me…Turn to me and have mercy on me; grant your strength to your servant…Give me a sign of your goodness…and then I kept reading and ended up in Psalm 88. I found more verses – O Lord, the God who saves me, day and night I cry out before you. May my prayer come before you; turn your ear to my cry. For my soul is full of trouble…you have taken from me my closest friends…my eyes are dim with grief. I call to you, O Lord, every day; I spread out my hands to you…But I cry to you for help, O Lord; in the morning my prayer comes before you…All day long they surround me like a flood; they have completely engulfed me. You have taken my companions and loved ones from me; the darkness is my closest friend.”
That night was the night I knew I really meant the “faith stuff.” If God could work out the details, starting months before when I had begun to read the Bible through, in such a way that I was ready for these verses on this night…if God could prove to me that someone else had felt this way first and that hope existed…then I would trust Him. I’d stay on the path.

I kind of wonder now if on that night, a little collection of angels in Heaven peeked over a cloud to see if some teenager in Greentown, Indiana, would pass the big faith test. I wonder if that same collection peeked over another cloud a few years later, almost to the day, when I was handed another test and this time, decided to try things my own way. Didn’t even realize at the time that I was in a test – but definitely thought I knew more than God. Bad move.

This week I was reflecting on both those “anniversaries.” I pulled off the shelf the study Bible I was using when Craig died, and I opened to the exact pages I’d read – found my notes in the margins and the pink highlighting over the words that spoke to me that night. And in the white space between the pink highlights, I found this verse: Is your love declared in the grave, your faithfulness in Destruction? (88:11). I’m sure that theologically, what I got out of the verse wasn’t exactly what the writer was intending, but here’s what I got…

Eleven years down the road, I can say that God absolutely loved me right through that tragedy. He started by sending two Psalms on a bitter evening and then He just kept right on moving. About a month after Craig’s death, I sat in the Burger King on a Thursday night before church (some things never change) and one of the college guys that worked there came out to take his break at my table while I ate dinner. His name was Randy. I have no idea what his last name was, but he was a really great guy who had worked there for a while. It wasn’t uncommon for him to take a break while my parents and I ate dinner, and he’d sit at the table across the aisle and we’d talk. That night I was there alone, but he still came out to sit with me. I have no memory of what we talked about that night – but I do remember laughing and then realizing that I was laughing for real. For the first time since Craig died, something brought a spark of joy to my life and I smiled and laughed sincerely. And that night, the dark load of grief left me. Randy must still live around here somewhere, because every now and then, I see him with his wife at Wal-Mart. I want to go up to him and say “Hey you probably don’t remember me, but I was a Burger King regular and one night God used you to do something big in my life.” But given my track record with Wal-Mart interactions, I just keep pushing my cart past him while inside thanking God for love and Psalms and Randy.

God was faithful to me in 1996, He was faithful a few years later despite my heart detour, and He’s still faithful now. This week, this “anniversary” week – has been a good one. God did it up right – He knows I love stuff like that. And while I don’t have any cake – I do have a big ole pan of brownies out in the kitchen. So I think I’ll go have one in celebration.