Photo Practice

I may be using the new camera a little too much.

My family can hardly enjoy a moment's peace without Bingley interrupting. My husband calls it "photo torture." It's possible that I forced C.R. and our dog to pose for a few (hundred) pictures on Sunday afternoon.

These were some of my favorites.





I love the dog's expression in that last shot. I think she was trying to figure out how to stop the photo madness and still meet her life goal of making us happy.

It's not wrong to consider adding to your family because you need more subjects to photograph, is it?

Pet Peeve

Last night, I was reminded of one serious pet peeve. (Warning: here comes a mini-rant.)

C.R., Sunshine, and I have recently started taking walks after dinner. Sunshine loves the novelty of being outside after dark in her sparkly light-up shoes. She is fascinated by her shadow and the neighbors' Christmas lights.

Our modest street borders an upscale neighborhood with incredible homes. Some are mansions, really, with guest houses, four-car garages, and sprawling manicured lawns. At first glance, these are people who appear to have it all. But second looks reveal "no soliciting" signs, extensive security systems, and costly staff to maintain the homes and yards.

So we're content to marvel at those beautiful houses and then return to our own sweet and comfortable home.

Last night, as we strolled one "street of dreams," Sunshine spied a large, newly decorated home. Thousands of brilliant white lights had been professionally strung along the roof, walkways, and pillared entrance of the home. Usually, we stop on the sidewalk in front of a home to ooh and ahh over the Christmas lights. But this time, as we stood across the street, I hesitated.

Half a dozen elegant middle-aged women were gathered outside the home, talking and laughing at the end of an apparent dinner party. Meanwhile, we looked like the ragtag family, bundled in warm but mismatched clothing. Sunshine's mittened hand tugged on mine.

"Mommy, let's go."

So we traipsed across the street toward the group and awkwardly explained that our daughter wanted to see the Christmas lights. Sunshine parted a small sea of women and raised her cute face to peer at the lights strung along roof. That's when I heard a soft exclamation behind me.

"Ohh. Look at her!" I turned, expecting that someone had glimpsed Sunshine's big blue eyes and rosy cheeks. Nope. In fact, none of the women were paying any attention to my child.

They were too busy fawning over our dog.

"She's beautiful. Do you know her breed?" (Black lab and springer spaniel mix.)
"She's so soft. Was she just bathed?" (Does a month ago count?)
"What a sweetheart. Don't you just love her?" (Yes, but not nearly as much as we love our daughter.)

Minutes later, we walked away with lingering comments about our dog and no acknowledgment of our child. It really bugged me.

Don't get me wrong - I like pets. And I don't expect everyone to find my child irresistibly adorable. But it seems to me that our culture sometimes places a lesser value on children and greater value on pets. Children are a nuisance and expense, while pets are loving companions.

I've even heard that pets are the new children. (Gag.) Just think of all the products and services you can now buy for your pets: health insurance, day care, gourmet food, clothes, car seats, strollers, and the list goes on.

Frankly, I think it's beyond ridiculous.

Alright, rant over.

She's Just Someone I Know

Is there someone in your life who you love to be around?

Someone who helps you see humor in the most ordinary and mundane situations? Who makes you laugh so hard that you might even wet your pants a little (er, hypothetically of course)? Who encourages you to totally be yourself - craziness and all? Who's been there for your greatest moments...and even some of your worst ones, and managed to love you through them all?

My "someone" is Sarah, my sister-in-law for the last 10+ years, and I'm dedicating this post to her. (But the rest of you can read along.)

* * * *

Thanks for the "ode" post. Only you can truly appreciate my listy-ness. In response, I've written a couple of lists about you...er, you and me...er, us sorta. Whatever.

They're lists. That's what really matters.

We're different in many ways. These are probably pretty obvious to both of us, so I won't get into them.

But we're also alike in many ways. So I've compiled a list of some mantras I think we'd share:

1. If you can't be perfect, procrastinate.
2. Home matters. A lot.
3. Like most of life, lists require more than one draft.
4. Handmade is beautiful. But if it's not, destroy it and pretend you never made it.
5. We could be rational and steady, but being emotional makes life so much more interesting.
6. Worry moved in years ago and has long overstayed its welcome.
7. Kids and pets are the best. Especially other people's kids and pets.
8. Love, laugh, and cry hard.
9. Books are a girl's best friend. And gifts. Books and gifts are a girl's best friends. Oh, and coffee. Guess we have lots of close friends.
10. Married to the most incredible men in the world. (As far as we can tell, there's only two of 'em.)

Over the years, we've shared a lot of great moments. Or at least interesting moments. So I put together a list of some of the most memorable:

1. Completely useless AmeriCorps meetings with that guy who'd smoked too much pot, but swore that...it...didn't...hurt...him...at...all, maaan.
2. Dressing up to go to Cats. Why was the girl who least needed a bra the only girl wearing one that night?
3. Driving 90mph to my wedding in Kenji, the Honda Civic held together with paperclips, duct tape, and love.
4. The double date where we blindfolded our husbands and your mom deserted them in the middle of nowhere. Good times.
5. Hugging you after your dad died and before we moved across the country.
6. You in a leopard print dress at the in-law family Christmas gathering.
7. Moving your stuff.
8. Praying with and for you.
9. Filling in for your husband at your birthing class the night they showed the c-section video. What great timing.
10. Going to Sugar's ultrasound with you. I went home and cried about the beauty of it all.
11. Telling you that I was pregnant. (Miraculously, considering the fore mentioned c-section video.)
12. The cake you made for my 30th birthday. (At least one of us remembers it. Ahem.)
13. The best. picnic. ever.
14. Sitting on your lap for pictures and reminding you not to grab my butt...yet.
15. You giving me a tattoo in the restroom of a certain bookstore.

Sarah, I love you like a sister. Always will.

Thank you for being my someone.

Dude, Where's My Pants?

I lost my favorite pair of pants - the ones I was thrilled to discover on a clearance rack at Ann Taylor last year. I bought those dove gray dress pants, despite the still high-ish price, because of the chic classic style. I knew that I could get my money's worth by wearing those beauties for years.

Or, in this case, for year.

Now some lucky bargain hunter will be able to wear my stylish pants after handing over a few bucks to Goodwill, a store I've always kinda appreciated. Until now.

How were my favorite pants accidentally donated to Goodwill? I'd like to blame my husband. After all, he's the one who placed the pants in a donation box and abandoned them at a donation center at the mall.

Seriously. Can you believe he'd be so heartless as to yank my favorite pants from the hanger and carelessly throw them in that box?

No, me neither. He actually found them on the floor of our closet atop a pile of clothing ugly ducklings - right next to that stupid donation box - and assumed that they were unwanted. (Pfft. I wonder why?) In truth, those pants were just waiting to go to the dry cleaner. But apparently my husband still hasn't figured out the intricacies of my laundering system.

It's actually a simple three-category system: (1) clean to clean-ish clothes on hangers or in the drawers, (2) dirty clothes in the baskets, and (3) outdated/hideous clothes and stylish items that need to be dry cleaned in or near the donation box. Sheesh. It's not rocket science. (Or any kind of science, obviously, since that last category is completely absurd.)

Why, oh why, did I have to marry such a logical and efficient man?

So now my pants are in transit to Whoknowswhere Goodwill. I've considered checking the local stores just to find and buy back my own pants. But I seriously doubt I'll find them now. And I'm not sure it's worth the time and energy.

Sigh.

I'd sure appreciate it if you'd think of me the next time you head into a Goodwill store. And if you happen to find a pair of classic Ann Taylor dress pants in dove gray (size 2 - I know, don't shoot me), please buy them.

Chicken Wisdom

When it comes to parenting (and most of the rest of life too), I can care too much about what other people think. I want them to see my well-dressed and perfectly-behaved child and think that I'm the most amazing parent ever. (Um, you can stop laughing now.)

But lately I've been trying not to worry about what others think and just parent the way C.R. and I believe is best. This week, that meant letting my child choose her own outfits. I realize that this is probably routine in most homes, but it's a big step outside my own comfort zone.

Nonetheless, I sorta assumed that we wouldn't have too much trouble, what with Sunshine's impressive ability at age 3 to discern whether or not clothes go together. When C.R. has dressed her, I've even overheard her chiding him for selecting an outfit that didn't match.

On Monday, she chose to wear a dress and tights. No problem. She loves dresses and looks adorable in them.

But the rest of the week she wanted to wear this:


A chicken costume.

It nearly killed me, but I let her wear that thing at home and even to run a few errands and go to a friend's house. Some people gave us indulgent smiles, while others probably wondered about my parenting skills.

I struggled to ignore the negative reactions.

But Sunshine didn't care. She loved every second she spent in this outfit, clucking and cock-a-doodling as loudly as I'd allow.


I could learn a thing or two from that girl.

The Visit

Today, I had the chance to visit my grandpa.

I’m incredibly thankful for the opportunity to see him. When my grandma passed away several years ago (on my birthday, no less), it was sudden. We didn’t get to say goodbye. I still have that last birthday card she sent to me – the one that arrived just days before her death. In it, she wrote that she missed us and wished I would write more often.

Oh, how I regret that now. Why do we take life for granted, always assuming that we’ll have more time with our loved ones?

This life is brief.

So it was important to me that we make the seven-hour drive to visit my grandpa this weekend, maybe for the last time.

It’s been a sweet visit. Although Sunshine has only visited her great-grandpa a few times, she didn’t hesitate to climb into his lap to snuggle with him. When he mentioned that it had been a rough day, Sunshine held his hand and looked at him with concern. Then she placed her head against his chest.

I could see that my grandpa was treasuring that moment, much like I was doing.

Tears came to my eyes as he gently hugged her and said, “I love you, sweetheart.” She looked up at him and softly spoke the same endearing words. I snapped this picture a few minutes later.


Then Grandpa gave me a priceless gift - a stunning jewelry box that my grandma had received from friends in Korea. (My grandparents were foreign missionaries – registered nurses – who traveled all over the world.) This beautiful jewelry box is black with an intricate inlaid design made from mother-of-pearl. I hope to someday pass it on to Sunshine, who was named after her grandmother.

Throughout the afternoon and evening, I took every opportunity to hug my grandpa and hold his hand. When the time came to leave, it was just the two of us in his room. I desperately wanted to pray for him. It was as though the Lord would not let me walk out of that room until I’d dropped to my knees before Him.

When I asked if I could pray, Grandpa seemed to long for it as desperately as I did. The prayer simply flowed from my mouth, my heart. It was brief, but sweet.

And then I said goodnight. Now I find myself dreading saying goodbye tomorrow.

I’m sorry for the sad posts lately; I have to admit that it’s sort-of a bittersweet season in my life right now. I promise that I’ll be back with some lighthearted posts soon.

Just not tonight.

The Next Chapter

*Guest post by C.R.

Writing is not my strength, but I’ll still share about the next chapter in our love story. I want to start by saying that I am honored to have been used by God to help teach Denise about God’s love, grace, and redemption. All glory and credit go to Him.

* * * *

In the months following our first date, Denise and I got caught up in high school love. We spent all of our free time together. Since I’d had little experience dating girls, I was in awe that such a beautiful girl wanted to spend time with me. By the time I left for college that fall, I was starting to believe that she might be “the one” to marry.

What I didn’t see was how much work God still needed to do in my life.

Like Denise, I’d grown up in a great Christian home, and I truly love and appreciate my parents. However, I’d somehow missed the point of Christianity. I believed that following rules was the whole point, that obedience alone would save me. I was pretty comfortable on the path of legalism.

During my fist year of college, I continued my relationship with Denise. I wrote frequent letters to her and drove home often to visit her. I was convinced that we would marry.

Then, unexpectedly, she broke my heart.

Shortly after she began her freshman year (my sophomore year) at a different college, she told me she thought we should break up and consider dating other people. I was crushed.

As I look back at that year, I’m thankful for roommates who supported me and became true brothers in Christ. I’m also extremely grateful that my parents sacrificed so I could attend a Christian college. God used key friendships and that community of believers to help me on the path of true repentance and faith in Christ.

Even though Denise started dating someone else, she and I maintained our friendship (sure helped that our parents lived less than a block away from each other). I held on to the hope that we would get back together someday.

The summer after my sophomore year, though, Denise came home from college engaged. I couldn’t understand it, and the few things she’d told me about this man worried me. With my hopes of getting back together crushed, I started telling myself to move on.

That, however, was not God’s plan.

One evening church service, in particular, stands out to me. The pastor preached from I Corinthians 13 – the love chapter. Denise’s name was in my mind the entire time (ironic, since she and her fiancé were in that same service). I’ve rarely had such a strong impression that God was getting my attention. The pastor spoke about how we are to love each other as Christians, and I knew God was calling me to love Denise this way.

I argued with Him and listed my objections: it wouldn’t look good for an ex-boyfriend to pursue this kind of relationship, I’d be interfering with an engagement, my friends and family wouldn’t understand or believe this was from God, and I’d risk being vulnerable again.

But God knew how the story would end, of course.

God knew that engagement was wrong, and that Denise needed a true friend. He also wanted me to learn to depend on Him, no matter what others thought.

In the end, I submitted to God and sought to love Denise as a sister in Christ, with the love chapter as my guide. It was a difficult path. But God’s love for Denise did reach her, and I’m humbled that it was partly through me. She broke that engagement, and His work transformed both our lives.

By the time we got engaged a few years later, both of our lives had been rooted in God - a secure foundation for our eventual marriage. I thank God for his faithfulness to Denise and me through those difficult times.

I’m not the type to wear my feelings on my sleeve, but on our wedding day, I was emotional as this beautiful woman walked down the aisle to commit herself in marriage to me in front of our families and friends. I simply couldn’t stop the tears – especially in light of all God had done to finally bring us to that amazing day.

Post Two (of 47)

There are two great love stories of my life. First is the story of Christ pursuing me and saving me. Second is the story of C.R. loving me, even as he saw me through my worst and most vulnerable times.

In fact, these two love stories are intertwined.

C.R. and I have already shared the story of our incredible first date (don't be jealous). Consider this looong post the next installment in our story. Stay tuned for C.R.'s post later this week.

* * * *

Awhile back, I was thumbing through an old high school annual. When I got to my graduating class, I couldn't find my picture anywhere. I flipped through that section several times, irritated that the annual staff had somehow neglected to include me that year. And then it struck me.

I was searching under my married name.

How quickly I forget that C.R. and I haven't always been married! (Since I didn't marry C.R. at age 16, I'm thinking that the folks at my high school were right to use my maiden name.) In fact, there was a span of a few years when I was pretty sure that I wouldn't marry C.R.

But when we were still dating during high school, I was in a season where my favorite color was black, my favorite music was grunge, and my favorite activities were writing depressing poetry (seriously hope I burned that stuff) and going to the cemetery with my friends to complain about life while they smoked.

Because my life up to that point had been SO difficult:

I'd grown up in a Christian home with parents who were faithful to each other and taught their children to love and respect one another. They protected us with the kinds of boundaries that kids need. We lived comfortably and always had enough food to eat and nice clothes to wear.

Really, I was blessed beyond my understanding.

So what was my problem? My heart.

Even though I'd gone to church and Sunday school all my life, I was still rebelling against God. Sure, I'd said a prayer as a kid, but I didn't really think I needed a savior. I wanted to believe that I was a good enough person on my own.

Still, as much as I tried to hide the truth or justify it, I knew that I would never really be good enough for God's perfect standards. So I chose to ignore Him and live exactly the way I wanted, a decision that led me into all kinds of trouble.

That trouble followed me to college, where I made some really stupid decisions, things I deeply regret. It's only God's grace that kept me from getting into an even bigger mess.

During my freshman year of college, I became engaged to a man that I had no business dating, let alone marrying. (No, it wasn't C.R.! I'd broken up with him after we decided to go to different colleges.) I chose to ignore the signs of a potential abuser in this man, even after finding out that his previous girlfriend had gone to school authorities with his threats against her. There were other issues as well, that I won't get into.

My family tried to get me to end the relationship, but I stubbornly refused to listen because I thought that, at age 18, I knew exactly what was best for my life.

Fortunately, several months and a wedding dress later, I broke off the engagement. (And I managed to dodge two bullets there - the dress really was a 90's fashion disaster.)

Ultimately, it was C.R. who helped me see that I shouldn't marry the other man. Although I didn't know it at the time, C.R. was convinced that we would one day marry. His family and many of his friends thought he was crazy (and who blames them, when I'd broken his heart?) but he continued to love me and pursue friendship.

I now know that was a difficult sacrifice for him.

The next year, I transferred to the school C.R. attended. On the outside, my life and my decisions seemed to improve. Inside, however, I was the same. I was still living the way I wanted, and I was desperately unhappy.

That's when depression hit. Hard. It was a struggle to get out of bed, go to class, spend time with friends, and even to eat. My grades dropped drastically and I was placed on academic probation.

I was quickly losing hope, and unable to hide it any longer.

During that dark time in my junior year, I attended a prayer meeting on campus. There I heard the Gospel - how Jesus conquered sin and death to reconcile me to God - and it cut me to the core.

I'd like to say that my life changed drastically overnight, but for me, it was a gradual process. That campus meeting signaled the start of a season of repentance and faith in my life. For the first time, I was hungry for God's Word and friendship with other believers. Change was slow but steady.

Steady - just like my relationship with C.R., who had remained a true and loyal friend through all of my stupidity. Our friendship deepened and grew, this time with Christ as the foundation.

Toward the end of my senior year, I finally knew with certainty that C.R. was the man I wanted - needed - to marry. The month after I graduated, he asked me to marry him.

And I said "yes." Um, obviously.

Now - more than a decade later - I continue to marvel at the intersection of two amazing love stories, awed at the ways God uses C.R. to teach me about love, grace, and redemption.