my dad sings like perry como

Saturday morning sunlight streamed through lace curtains as a 5-year-old early riser stretched and blinked the sleep from her eyes.  Instantly she heard singing - loud, wake-the-whole-house baritone singing.  That only meant one thing:  Dad was cooking breakfast that morning, and he was happy.  As she got closer, the girl, realized he was singing a love song to her mom: "Some enchanted eeveniinngg, you will see a straaangeeerr.  You will see a straangeerr across a crowded rooomm.  And somehow you'll knooww, you'll know even theenn, that somewhere you'll see her again and aaaggaaaiiiinnn..."

The 5 year old giggled.  Mom glowed.  

Later that afternoon: "Daddy, how did you and mom fall in looooovee?" 
"We didn't, Laura.  We stepped deliberately into it."

"Oh," disappointedly.  "Well that's no fun."  

"That's what you think."

~*~

I never get tired of my parents' incredible love story - how he wasn't really looking, but they met at work and my mom suggested lunch (or something).  How 4 months later my mom bought a simple dress at a department store (which still fits!), and they married in a small chapel with a few family and friends, and that was that - their married life began.  He provided, and she paid the bills, and he kept the house running when migraines hit, and they raised 2 girls and made each other laugh.

It's been 20 years, and still sometimes I catch them slow-dancing in the kitchen as dinner cooks.  

Happy 20^th anniversary, mom & dad. 

rain, reading, & red hair: 0065-0081

A long, tiring week - I can barely remember past Saturday.  I really should keep this list during the week, instead of making it over the weekend.

Even so, God is good.  Despite my forgetfulness.


0065:  Cooler days after a heat wave.

0066:  Good conversation after Bible study.

0067:  Making breakfast with my soul sisters.

0068:  Solemn conversation to hysterical laughter in an instant.

0069:  Different outlets of creativity - two dancers, a musician, and a writer.

0070:  Chocolate chip pancakes.

0071:  Naps - lots of them, and deep and long.

0072:  Thunderstorms that come & go in a violent flash.

0073:  No electricity - a night of no radio, no TV, no internet.  Just talking and books.

0074:  Finishing Middlemarch.  A bucket list item completed.  [highly recommend, by the way - I loved it!]

0075:  "The world is hungry for positive art." - an encouraging word from a wise lady.

0076:  The electricity came on this morning.  Hello, showers and food other than peanut butter.

0077:  Coffee and reading by the Potomac River.

0078:  A new baby nephew - Andrew Joseph.

0079:  A safe, quick delivery with no complications.

0080:  Hearing my brother's proud, tired, new-father voice.

0081:  My nephew's curly red hair!

why I read

“Because for some of us, books are as important as almost anything else on earth.  What a miracle it is that out of these small, flat, rigid squares of paper unfolds world after world after world, worlds that sing to you, comfort and quiet or excite you.  Books help us to understand who we are and how we are to behave.  They show us what community and friendship mean; they show us how to live and die.  They are full of all the things that you don’t get in real life—wonderful, lyrical language, for instance, right off the bat.  And quality of attention:  we may notice amazing details during the course of a day but we rarely let ourselves stop and really pay attention.  An author makes you notice, makes you pay attention, and this is a great gift.  My gratitude for good writing is unbounded; I’m grateful for it the way I’m grateful for the ocean.”

--Anne Lamott, Bird by Bird p. 15

mercy cuts deep

The only thing harder than asking forgiveness is to ask it...and live with its denial.  Even if you hear the words “I forgive you”, words ring false.  Averted eyes, icy silence, stolen friends, complete rejection – these speak the truth in the heart. 

I do not understand.  I cannot fathom how someone can sing of God’s mercy and grace on sinners, but refuse to extend that God-given forgiveness to a repentant sister.  That’s not how it's supposed to work, I protest.  So much of me wants to cry out:  This is not fair. 

But I cannot be angry.  I cannot be resentful, or bitter.  I cannot even want justice, because the penalty has already been borne by Another.  To cry out for more justice is to curse the blood that covers me.   

Still I struggle, because all that is not of God in me is not satisfied with that answer.

And yet, what do I read?  God shows His love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us.  While I am still a sinner, Christ died for me.  While they are still sinners, Christ died for them.  This Gospel I sing compels me to believe that neither of us will receive justice.  Not only to believe it, but to rejoice in it.  

The cross gives me hope that one day, long-held grudges and old wounds will not matter.  We will all praise the Giver of the grace lavished upon us.  And not just grace that we ourselves have received, but that has been poured upon all who trust in the name of Jesus - even those who caused the wounds.  

"Let us wonder grace & justice,

Join & point to mercy's store.

When through grace in Christ our trust is -- 

Justice smiles, and asks no more."

(Photo:  A church in the Bronx.  Taken as I sat in New York Friday traffic.)

bride & groom

There he stands, watching her come towards him.  She’s so excited; she  has eyes for no one but him.  And he—well, just look at his face.  She is his bride.  As he places the ring on her finger, she laughs in incredulity: “Is this real? Are you really making this promise to me?”  Yes.  The rings are the sign.

I never understood the power of the Church as the Bride of Christ, the Groom, until this moment when I saw this human groom’s face.  Because instead of wondering whether a man would ever look at me in that way and place a symbol on my finger, I realized – one day, my Savior will gaze upon me with even greater love.  The seal of the promise is not a metal circle, but scarred wrists, bloody feet, a new heart.  And I shall see His face.  I am His bride.  He is my Groom.

I know that the Church collectively is the Bride, not mere individuals.  Christ, in His love, will see us as one.  But a groom doesn’t just love his bride as a whole being; he cherishes every part of her.  Her big, shining eyes.  Her soft, long hair.  Her dimples.  Her nose and the way it wrinkles when she laughs.  Her tiny hands and feet.  Her smile.  Her voice.  Everything that makes up who she is, he treasures.  He examines the details of each feature with delight.

And so, just as Christ will look upon His Bride, the Church, with unimaginable love, so He will gaze upon me.  So He will delight in you.  And we together shall see His face – distant now as we walk down this long aisle of the years, but coming closer, closer…

O Lord, haste the day.

(Thank you, Kristen & James, for inviting me to be part of your God-honoring wedding celebration.  May God bless your life together richly, and keep us all ever-focused on the eternal wedding feast.)

0052-0064: journey mercies and wedding bells

I never really understood the concept of “journey mercies” or the comfort in prayer for safe travels…until I took a road trip by myself.

0052: The semitruck miraculously saw us and did not run us into the wall on the George Washington Bridge. Accident averted.

0053: We never got hopelessly lost. Not even when Google directions were wrong and our maps were unhelpful. Not even when we missed a turn in Friday rush-hour New York City. Not even when we were driving around middle-of-nowhere New Hampshire.

0054: We never ran out of gas (…though I occasionally worried when we were stuck in traffic).

0055: Fresh fruit, soft-serve ice cream, and a friendly home at the end of a long driving day.

0056: The gracious hospitality of our friend’s family (especially their mother. Especially during a busy weekend.)

0057: Relaxing by the water.

0058: Driving past grave yards

0059: Blasting The Sound of Music cassette. Old School, I know.

0060: Patience and endurance for the long drive home. Even when we thought we would lose our minds from looking at so much traffic-filled highway.

0061-64: Her infectious joy. The way he treasures her. A wedding celebration that constantly proclaimed the Gospel and anticipated the wedding feast we will share in heaven with our faithful Groom. The spiritual reality that this image points me towards:

Lord of all, to Thee we raise this, our hymn of grateful praise.

one thousand gifts 1-14
one thousand gifts 14-30
one thousand gifts 31-51

this blog is...

...a continuation of the first blog I started. I really just switched to Blogspot because it offers more free controls over the aesthetics of my blog, and I enjoy dabbling in things like that. So, to read previous posts, go there.

And now, the story continues...