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!

The Saturday Six

 

One.

I don't know about you, but sometimes I need a heart boost. A reminder of truths that encourage the heart. If that's you too, today, here is a great article about small miracles and how they show up all around us all the time. How much we miss because we don't pause to see! 

Two.

My sister sent me this link to a post about a Little House birthday party. What fun!!!! My mom always threw fun parties (with station!) when I was a kiddo, and if I'd known about this one back then, I probably would have asked for it! Really cute and creative! 

Three.

Could 2021 be my year to finally learn to make bread recipes? I've tried a few times and done...okay...but this has never become a polished skill for me. Something about these recipes made the idea appealing again. 

Four.

Some of these might seem common sense, but maybe one or two would spark a new idea in your mind, so I'm posting them! Ideas for things to keep in your car so you're prepared in any situation! (I have noticed a lot of my social media friends seem to have misplaced their ice scrapers lately, so maybe the list isn't so crazy after all!)

Five.

I'm on a quest to come up with some ideas (for a friend) in helping to make a dark, small room feel lighter, brighter, and larger. I loved some of the ideas in this post about making a windowless room feel lighter! Maybe some of you with basements or small window rooms could use some of these ideas, too! 

Six.

One of my acquaintance/friends is pregnant with her third child, and she recently posted about a service I didn't even know existed! (Or if I did...I'd forgotten!) Did you know there are meal delivery services that cater specifically to new moms? The meals are designed to be nourishing - especially for nursing moms. What a fabulous gift idea!

Thankful for This Love

Valentine's Day may be a silly and/or annoying holiday to some, but I can't let this weekend pass without sharing some of the reasons I'm grateful for the love God has allowed me to know in my life with Ryan. I say these words not to injure those of you in the waiting, but rather to encourage you to be faithful in prayer and trust God's faithfulness in the waiting and with the answer. I can't even count the number of people who told single-days-Bekah that marriage wasn't all that great. The words terrified me, because I longed to believe great marriages could be a real thing. I'm thankful for a husband who is determined to make that greatness a daily reality in the smallest of ways.

* I'm thankful for the days he rolls out of bed while it's still dark to begin shoveling the walks, clearing the parking lot, and cleaning off the cars so we can both be ready for morning transportation runs. He does it without fail and without complaining.

* I'm thankful he finds joy in something as small as bringing me my first cup of coffee every morning. I'm thankful our tenants have been able to witness him bringing me coffee throughout the day, because they've honed in on that. They've mentioned repeatedly that they see it as an act of love and they hope to someday experience it.

* For that matter, I'm thankful the person he is in the privacy of our apartment is the same person he is in the community room. Our tenants soak up our words and interactions way more than we know, and I'm grateful he provides an example they can follow. 

* I'm thankful for his compassionate heart that loves this community we lead. He's tender toward team and tenants alike when they have hard days. He comes alongside to pray with them, encourage them, and care for them in tangible ways. 

* I'm thankful for his compassionate heart for people he's never even met. I tiptoed into our home office the other day to find him at the end of an exhaustingly long phone call with a customer service representative, and I heard him say, "Thank you so much for all your help and patience. May I pray for you before you go?" I heard delight in her voice as she accepted, and I quietly tiptoed back out before I interrupted that sacred moment.

* I'm thankful for the ways he encourages me when I feel like I'm surely failing in all ways. He sat in on a meeting of mine the other day, and when it concluded, I jut wanted to sink into the couch and sleep. I was certain I'd come across as Charlie Brown's teacher, and all my words had melted into unrecognizable hatch marks in our tenant's brain. But when I looked up at him, wide-eyed, and asked how he thought it went, he swept me up into a cloud of encouragement and affirmation that it really had gone much better than it felt in my head.

* I'm thankful to get to share every work day with him. We're at just over seven months of spending every single day together, and I am still enamored with it. Sure, the work had its challenges, but sharing every day with him is no challenge. It's a welcome gift. 

* I'm thankful for his help in all the ways I've come to take for granted - and I'm thankful for the times I'm reminded NOT to take those moments for granted. I'm thankful he's willing to shoulder house chores with me so we can also equally shoulder work chores. 

* I'm thankful he likes to play word games with me every night. It's become our wind-down activity, and it makes my heart so happy. (Gotta admit, I never pegged him for loving word games!)

* I'm thankful for the prayer warrior he is - for me and for others. He promises to pray and I know he always does. I'm thankful when he knows I'm struggling, he texts reminders to me to assure me of his prayers in that very moment.

* I'm thankful for his many gifts and his willingness to try new things - like upholstery in Abby! He's saved us so much money, time and time again, by just being willing to throw sweat equity into life. 

* I'm thankful for the way he encourages me to try new and scary things - like sledding! He's brought such adventure to my life that I never imagined could be mine. 

* Most of all, I'm thankful for his unconditional love. He isn't afraid to challenge me to grow and stretch, but he is ALWAYS my biggest champion and supporter. 

The tenants told him he still had to ask me to be his valentine, even though it's a given, and he did - right there in front of them. I didn't hesitate a second in saying yes. I'm thankful he's my valentine in this and all years. 

Ryan - thank you for being mine and for showing love always!

Never Giving Up on Dreams

Years ago, one of my friends gave me a journal that I quickly dubbed my dreaming journal. I'd hesitantly open the front cover and scribble down dreams that I could scarcely believe I was willing to commit to paper. It felt so risky, as though the mere admission of the dreams was a death sentence for them. I'd slam the journal closed after the last pen stroke and hide it under a pile of books, hoping that would protect my dreamy words from sabotage.

Over time, I stopped writing in the journal. 

Stopped dreaming, really.

Too many dreams never came true. Too many words seemed laughable when I pried the cover open weeks, months later. It was embarrassing and silly. Why would I do this? So I stopped. 

As I've gotten older, I've taken up dreaming again. God so mercifully helped me realize that my dreams weren't silly or embarrassing. Some did eventually come true...just not as quickly as I would have chosen. Others came to pass in ways that looked different from my vision, but in truth, they were even better. 

But I have to tell you about a sweet dream moment this week.

It started when I realized the Lenten season begins next week, and I hadn't thought yet what I might study during that time. A thought popped into my mind: I'd had an idea for a study that I'd sketched into an outline a while back, but I wasn't sure if I still had that outline. I dragged a dining room chair into the office and stood on tippy toes to sort through a box of random writing ideas. 

I found it!

I'd scribbled it on an old church bulletin, and the date at the top told me I'd made the list in 2013. Reading down through my notes pushed my heart to beat faster with ideas and questions and the desire to dive in to learn.

Later that very same day, another friend sent me a journal. The words on the front said He has made everything beautiful in His time. And the admonition that came with the journal was this: "On the first page, write a dream you have and one step you'll take TODAY to make that dream come true."

I thought back to earlier in the day when I revisited my idea of a study I dreamed up in 2013. Eight full years ago! I thought of my desire to dive in with study and writing. I thought of my lack of free time in comparison to what I used to have. I thought of the words in our sermon in church on Sunday: Your schedule shows what matters most to you.

So I peeled open the cover of that new journal - the one with the reminder that He makes everything beautiful in His time - and wrote that I dreamed of completing this study, and I would take a step today by making time to write something, even though some days are so very full.

Writing those words felt so invigorating, but my favorite thing by far that day was the way God reminded me that it's always good to dream, and in His time, He will bring them to pass in His own beautiful way. And sometimes it might be years later before that time comes! 

How grateful I am for these people God plants in my life to urge me to dream in words on paper. To risk committing them to print and wait for God's timing. 

Keep dreaming with me, friends!! If you're feeling discouraged today, don't give up! 

Valentine's Day Gift Ideas

Ahhhh, Valentine's Day. We've already been reminded by our tenants that it's not the favored day of the year if you don't have a sweetheart. Oh, how I remember those days. A solid day of mourning and drowning my sorrows in pizza and/or ice cream. 

I learned when I got married that many married people hate this day just as much. They hate the idea of spending money on yet another holiday. More stuff. More money. BLAH, they say.

I do think it's wise to minimize spending for Valentine's Day. Contrary to what commercials may advise, I don't think it will ever be in my budget to purchase a car, new phone, really anything else over about thirty dollars for this holiday. But I do enjoy the chance to spoil Ryan a little by getting a special gift for him. And I enjoy it that he also gets me a gift for Valentine's Day! 

So what makes for a good Valentine's Day gift? Here are a few ideas from my little brain to yours if you're looking for some inspiration!

For the kiddos...

Back in my single days, when all my friends were having babies, I loved being able to spoil them with little Valentine treats. Sometimes I would go to the dollar store and round up some practical toys (bubbles, sidewalk chalk, books, etc.) they could enjoy without adding excessive clutter. It didn't break my budget and it allowed me to give them a few little treasures. I often paired that with some homemade cut out sugar cookies with generous frosting and sprinkles. 

Depending on the ages of the kids, it could also be fun to put together an inexpensive cookie kit so they could have their own little decorating party at home. Cookie mix, tub of frosting, cookie cutters, sprinkles, food coloring - whatever strikes your fancy. Might want to make sure the parents will still love you if you sign them up for a messy kitchen! ;)

Another great idea is to put together a small bag of quiet activities for car rides, restaurants, Zoom meetings, etc. Parents might really love you for this one!

For the older kiddos/teens...

As our own nieces and nephews are getting older (aahhh!) we're learning that they particularly love gift cards to restaurants or gas stations. Their parents tell us that when they're out and about, the kids want to get a treat, so they've started making them responsible for paying for their own treats. They feel like big stuff when they have their "own money" to buy, so this is one of our new go-to gifts. (It helps that this is easy to mail, since we don't see them often now.) 

I don't know what rules are on this kind of thing in these pandemic days, but I remember when I was in junior high and high school, the main office became a breeding ground for deliveries on Valentine's Day. Office assistants were never bored that day, as they made delivery after delivery after delivery to classrooms. Every time the door opened, every girl (in particular) would sit up straight to hear the name called. It was rarely mine, but a couple of times I did get something, and oh my goodness, it felt SO delightful. I say all of that to say just being remembered and chosen by name can often mean the world in the impressionable years. You could send the smallest thing, but sending it via DELIVERY could be the best gift of all. Adding a personalized note to say how much the recipient means to you could push that love gift over the top!

For the single crowd...

I'll repeat my last advice and say that just being remembered in the delivery crowd can mean the most. I had a few friends who would send flowers or cards to my office when I worked at IWU, and it was such a blessing. 

If you are of the persuasion that Valentine's Day doesn't matter to you personally, it might be a sweet blessing to instead offer your time to a single friend on Valentine's Day. I realize pandemics complicate all that, but I think there are still ways to do something meaningful. A couple of times when I was single, friends of mine hosted dinners at their homes on Valentine's Day. They cooked and served meals to their single friends. Since that is not as possible right now, maybe you could go deliver a meal to a single friend's doorstep. Or if you live too far away, arrange for delivery and then "eat together" over Zoom and spend some time talking to your friend. 

One year I purchased roses and drove around down dropping them off on the doorsteps of single friends who inspired me. That was as meaningful to me as it was to them. I prayed for each one as I drove to her house. It was a sweet day. 

For your significant other...

I can't tell you (yet) what I got for Ryan, because we can't spoil the surprise. ;) More on that later.

We tend to alternate our gifts between sentimental and practical. One year I made a photo book for him that included verses I pray over him and some of my favorite pictures of us. One year he made me a custom phone case that had a picture of us on it. (I was so sad when my phone size changed and I couldn't use that anymore.)

Some years we've scoured each other's Amazon wish lists and purchased something more on the practical side that we know the other person wanted. It's a fun way to get something you'd been putting off buying for yourself.

Not everyone feels this way, but I always tell Ryan I'd be perfectly happy with flowers and chocolate. So typical and predictable, I know, but they make me so happy. 

Even a small treat is a great idea! You know those hot chocolate bombs that are so popular right now? I've never had one and I think it would be SO FUN to try it - just once. 

Time is a great idea here, too. Just taking time to have dinner together or spend an evening playing games and talking can mean everything, especially if you have a super busy schedule!

So there you have it! A few ideas for blessing others and reminding them how much they're loved! Feel free to throw your own ideas in the comments if you have some!

It's Happening.

It's been over twenty years since I wrote my first book. I was still in college and had no money to buy gifts for my family for Christmas. So I gathered up what I did have, which was mounds of writing, and compiled selections into a 3 ring binder, which I copied and presented to every family member. 

It was called Welcome to My World and had a sampling of fiction, nonfiction, a few funnies, and some devotional-type pieces. I still have a copy and it mostly makes me cringe, but I do love it, just the same. For all its (many) flaws, it will always be my first courageous step into sharing my writing beyond the realms of my peer groups in college. 

One of the pieces I wrote was called "Daddilies." It was a play on a title of a book Mom had, called Mommilies. That book was filled with funny quips and stories typical of motherhood. I'd collected a host of quips and stories about Dad, too, over the years, and I wrote about them in that chapter. Dad is such a good sport. He always says, whenever I tell a funny story on him, "It's okay. If you're picking on me, you're leaving someone else alone."

I prefer to think of it as a nod of appreciation vs. picking, but whatever. ;)

Anyway! I tell you all of that to say that one of the stories I told in that chapter had to do with my dad's fond affection for the aloe plant. As I wrote in my chapter, "If you have a cut, scrape, mosquito bite, ingrown toenail, hangnail, or any other outer ailment, he will say, 'That would feel better if you would put some aloe vera on it.' Never plain aloe. Aloe vera. So there."

It's true. Though my parents always had a huge garden when I was growing up, they weren't really plant people when it came to house plants. I actually can't remember them ever having an indoor plant...except the aloe plant (ahem...aloe vera plant) by the back window. It was there from my earliest memory and Dad forever broke off a piece for every single ailment. 

Basically, they were using natural medicine before it was trendy to do so, and I realize that now. Back then it was just strange to rub goopy leaves on sunburns and mosquito bites. 

I've nodded my appreciation to (or picked on...whichever you prefer) Dad for lo these many years for his insistence on the use of aloe for all things. If you've ever seen the movie My Big Fat Greek Wedding, you know the bride's dad's use of Windex to cure all? Same idea, different medicine. 

So you can imagine the raised eyebrows on Ryan's face last week when I announced I would like to purchase an aloe plant for our home.

"Really! Gonna side with your dad at last, huh?"

I set my jaw firmly and announced my conclusions based on Pinterest research (and my desire to embrace the idea of becoming a crazy plant lady) but all my arguments fell flat and we both knew it. 

Yes, it's true. It's happening. I'm turning into my father. But if it's all the same to you, I'll just call it an aloe plant. Not aloe vera. 

But if we could not talk about the hummingbird feeder we purchased last year...I'd appreciate it. I'm not ready to admit becoming a bird watcher too. Not yet. 

(PS - Love you, Dad. Aloe vera and all. You were right. It's a good plant to have.)