A New Day

He wakes again before the first real light, slipping away in that part of the day that still registers only in black and white.  Experiences and interactions have yet to color this day for good or ill.  It is still merely potential, and it beckons him from our bed.

Security

I lay in the dark sifting through a thousand thoughts left over from the day, sorting them into the proper cubby in my mind.  I’m restless and realize I can’t remember if the back door got locked before we came up to bed.

My husband is snoring lightly beside me sleeping soundly.  I say his name three times before he responds.  I ask about the door, and he replies the same way he does each time this scene plays out, “Yes, it’s locked.”

He stirs, is still a moment and then wordlessly crawls out of bed.  In the dark he half sleepwalks down the stairs returning a moment later to report his findings.  Some nights we’ve left it open; tonight it really was locked.  Either way I sleep easier knowing for certain.  He understands this.  It is why he goes wordlessly into the dark.

Checking the backdoor at night is only one of the ways that my husband makes sure I feel the security of his love.  Through his fidelity, commitment, responsibility, honesty and care he makes each of my days secure.

It only takes a minute or so for his breathing to shift back into the slow heavy rhythm of sleep.  I reach out in the darkness and stroke his cheek issuing a silent prayer of thanksgiving before joining him in peaceful slumber.

Going to the Chapel

Danforth Chapel on the campus of Kansas State University

It is safe to say that I am not the woman that my in-laws envisioned as their son's wife. There were regional differences, religious differences, and political differences.  Despite these differences there was one very fundamental commonality we did share.  We all loved their son.

I do believe that they knew this fact to be true by the end of their lives; they seemed less certain at the outset of ours.

There was much tension during the planning of our nuptials.  To make the day easier on all of us we decided to have a small wedding for immediate family only.  We would hold it in the "all faiths" chapel on the campus where we met.

The morning of the wedding there were a few last minute details to see to.  My groom and I had agreed to tackle the tasks together, but he could not be reached that morning. Miffed, I finished the jobs on my own and prepared myself for the ceremony.

It wasn't until much later that I learned he was tackling something much more difficult than any of the tasks I had in mind.  He was standing up to the parents he loved as they attempted to persuade him not to go through with the wedding.

While waiting with my sisters for our cue to enter the chapel word came that the men of the bridal party were ready whenever we were.

As I stepped into the aisle at the back of the chapel, I linked arms with my dad and took a deep breath.  I looked up and saw the man I loved waiting for me.  He looked small and uncertain until he looked into my eyes.

A smile crossed his face and lines crinkled in the corners of his eyes.  I stepped forward moving towards him, moving towards our future.  The closer I came to both, the tighter my chest felt.

I was overwhelmed with emotion.  When it came time for my vows I could not speak. My tears flowed unchecked.  Silently, he reached into the pocket on the inside of his tux and removed a white handkerchief.  Gently, while looking into my eyes and smiling he wiped my tears away.

Struggling, I could only speak loudly enough to make my vows known to the kindly priest.  That was enough.  He proclaimed us husband and wife.

What God has joined together, let no man put asunder.  Thirty-three years, one month and nine days later no man has.

In that time there have been many tears, some of joy, some of sorrow.  Without fail, my wonderful husband has been right by my side to dry my eyes.

For my valentine:  When love is certain it can overcome obstacles.  In overcoming obstacles, love becomes more certain.

Valentine's Kiss

My valentine woke me today

The way he has nearly every morning for going on three decades now

With a kiss

Not a long, passionate kiss

But a short, efficient kiss

Punctuation

Setting off the fact that we have been given the gift of another day

And we should not waste it

2012

Filling an Empty Nest

Thinking of Shakespeare and Company, I decided to share this piece from 2015 once more.  

Prompt: If you could have given yourself a snapshot five years ago of what your life is like now, what would the picture be of and how do you think you would have felt about it?

 Five years ago, I had adjusted well to my oldest child being a college student three states away.  My other two kids were in high school though the end was in sight.  I so enjoy having the three of them around that I was not looking forward to the emptying of my nest.

My wise friend June was in the same stage of life.  She told me that we had to figure out what made us personally happy and pursue it.  What she understood was that our nests wouldn’t feel so empty if they were filled with what we loved other than our children. 

And so I rekindled love:  the love and friendship that my husband and I shared as newlyweds;  my love of creating art or something like it;  and my love of reading.  While all my rekindled loves bring me joy, it is my reading that has surprised me with its voraciousness.  Each night as I lay in bed it is not the stillness that has replaced footfalls on the stairs that I hear, but the adventures re-experienced with characters I’ve known forever or new escapades with those I have just discovered.  I feel no loneliness in the wee hours as my husband sleeps peacefully by my side because I am kept company by historical figures and fictional friends page after page.

The greatest accomplishment of my life is motherhood.  The times that my children are nestled under my roof are still my favorite times of all.  But the other times–the quiet times of solitude and contented partnership have a magic of their own.  Like all great stories, as life unfolds I am surprised and entranced by the plot twists, especially those which I could have not predicted such as an empty nest where a sense of emptiness is completely foreign to me.

Snapshots taken at an English bookstore, Shakespeare and Company, in Paris, France.

Posted 

The Get-Away

I stand at my closet wondering what to take.  After twenty-eight years of marriage we will soon go away together for the very first time and I am giddy as a schoolgirl.

There is a long stretch of life when you are pulled between your children’s needs and your parent’s needs.  Not wanting to short change either, it is easy for your own needs and your marriage to be put on hold.

There is sadness in our nest emptying when it has been such a joy to have it full and lively.  There is certainly an emptiness in my life that was once filled by my parents.  But life is rarely all black or white.  As if to prove my point, rain is falling on the dry, parched earth outdoors.  The sun is hiding behind a blanket of clouds.  Today there is gray, and in the gray I find renewal.  As the fallow earth drinks in the healing moisture falling from the heavens I understand that loss, though painful, also makes room for other things in our lives.  Those other things can help us heal.  I look forward to this time alone with my husband, prepared to drink in every moment.  Prepared for renewal.

(Written in 2013, shared again today in honor of our 33rd anniversary.)

Thankful: The Language Arts Edition

On a road trip years ago we had ventured into unchartered (by us) territory.  I was behind the wheel; my husband was navigating.  Anticipating our exit, we were uncertain whether it would be on the left or the right ahead.  Scouring the map, my husband gave a command which I wasn’t sure I had heard correctly.  “The left?”, I asked as it drew ever nearer.  “Right, right, right”, he shouted as I changed lanes looking for a non-existent exit on ….ahem…the right.

Turns out it would have been more productive if he had shouted, correct, correct, correct when I asked if the exit was on the left.  Language is funny that way, it is only as helpful as our ability to use it well.

It has been a week of language used well, and for this I am truly thankful.

It was Youth Sunday at my church last Sunday.  Three of our high school seniors told their personal story about growing in their faith.  I was Director of Children’s Ministry for ten years and watched these kids grow up which was a joy in itself, but when they spoke about the experience, it affirmed years of my work.

They touched my heart with words of gratitude, words of promise, words of affirmation and words of love.  Not to mention their love of the word.

~

My son has me learning German online.  He hopes to study in Germany this fall and wants us to come and share some of the sights and experiences.  We are still in the planning stage and don’t know yet if it is all going to come together, but he set up an account for me at Duolingo.com so I can chat with the locals just in case.

I am thankful that the huge world is more manageable than it used to be to allow travel and the experience of other cultures.  I am thankful for the opportunities my kids have.  I am thankful they are eager to share their world with us.

~

I am thankful for the language of love which we celebrated with a very nice Valentine’s Day.  And for a new little person born on 2/12/14, my newest Great-niece, Charlotte Anne. And for Charlotte’s mom and dad, Laura and Nathan~may they enjoy parenthood.

#355 through 365 of my 1000 Gifts.
This classic thank you note was first written in 2014 and remains one of my favorites.

My Child Bride

Mama Kat

Arguably my child's favorite moments of summer.

Le Professeur was home from North Carolina this week sporting an engagement ring, and traveling in tandem with a young man.  We had a wedding to-do list a mile long to work our way through before they left.  The task that was most memorable was choosing a wedding dress.  

This is the child who has long been notorious for her inability to make choices while shopping.  So, we headed out to what we were certain was only the first of about one thousand trips to dozens of bridal stores.  Her sister and I settled into cushioned chairs for what promised to be a long night and let the magical parade begin.

We made notes in a binder about what we liked and disliked about each dress thinking we would narrow down which styles to try on at each successive visit. 

Because every single dress looked fabulous on her, we soon found eliminating them to be a challenge.  We switched our strategy to identifying the crème de la crème.

Some took me back to her ballerina days requiring a brief intermission so that I could regain my composure (and find something more appropriate than my sleeve to wipe away spontaneous tears).

In an unexpected twist, we found "the" dress in under two hours.  It is beautiful, and she is stunning in it.  These things are top secret, of course, and there is the matter of the groom not seeing her wearing it before the wedding.  So, for now I leave you with the above photo---just a hint of more to come.

To you, mon petit chou, you will make  the most lovely of brides, but always know that you don't need lace or jewels to be beautiful in my eyes.  I love you.  

Old Bridge at Echo Cliff Park

The old bridge that runs by Echo Cliff Park was originally meant for more than just foot traffic, but what once was strong and reliable has deteriorated.  Whoever was put in charge of its up-keep didn’t take the job too seriously.  Nails have been haphazardly bent as they were hammered.  Boards were sawed helter-skelter so that the ends look like a jack-o-lantern’s smile.  Cut from inferior wood they have warped over time.  Walking over the rickety bridge, I can’t help but question the wisdom of relying on it to keep me safe as I cross.

I shake my head in judgement of the bridge keeper, but have I been any more conscientious?  My marriage is crossing into new territory as the last of our kids leaves home.  Have I kept the marriage in good repair?  As it has needed mending, have I replaced the bent nails with ones that I have diligently made straight?  How well have I reinforced the worn spots? I know that too often when we came to a bumpy place I slapped down a board that was not measured and cut as precisely as it should have been, but was meant merely to get us through.  I always intended to go back and pay closer attention to the details someday.

One of my mom’s favorite expressions was “We will cross that bridge when we come to it.”  Well, we have come to it. It is time to put my trust in what I have helped to build.  I reach for the hand next to me and grasp it in my own.  Together we take the first step, faithful that what we have made has strength enough to support us.

Originally published September 2013