“I Love You, Too…but I’m still Mad!”

The first time I heard that I think I was about 12 years old. My friend and I had stayed out WAY too late on an extremely stormy nigh while camping with her dad at A Thousand Trails in Pacific City. I had forgotten that until I sat down to write this.

Last week Lennox, Winter, and I were invited to a 2 hour presentation basically about relationships. (I totally can’t remember the preson’s name or titles of books.) One of the things she talked about is how a woman needs to hear, “We may not agree right now, but I love you. You and I are good.” I didn’t realize how important that is to hear until I needed to hear it earlier this week. I needed to know that even though things feel rough, we’re still family and we love each other. That one thing has helped me so much in relating to my daughter. I could say to her the other night, “my feelings are hurt, but I really love you and we’re good”. Us women need our hearts to be secure.

The men need to know they’re appreciated and respected. My husband feels respected when our room is tidy and restful. (I feel loved when the house is clean.) I am not great at respecting, but I’m learning. I didn’t grow up in a family that respected men. I didn’t do it well with my first husband and I haven’t done it well as my boys have grown into men. As with everything in life, we learn as we grow.

The speaker from last week said that men need to know that they’re our hero. I have a few heroes in my life. My dad, my son Christopher, and Lennox. Today is about Lennox. I don’t have any good pictures of the other 2 on this computer and I didn’t plan to write this.

This guy married a girl with so much baggage it could fill semi. She already has 4 kids and was naive enough to think the transition would be smooth since all the kids have known Lennox for at least 10 years. It hasn’t been. It’s been SO hard! Yet, we have seen a huge shift in our family. Our teenagers enjoy spending time with us. They’re becoming more open, especially with Lennox. We have fun. We can be honest without being insulting. I love that. I love that my teens are learning something so important decades before I learned it.

This guy is an excellent grandpa, we call him Lolo. He’s learned to change diapers, cuddle a toddler, and a whole bunch of other things.

Anyway, my husband is gone late tonight helping with leading worship somewhere and I miss him. He’s my best friend and I feel like I never get enough time with him.

What makes your husband your hero?

 

Rambling Thoughts on the Passage of Time

Have you ever tried Tabata? It’s an form of torture exercise! Here’s how it works: you do an exercise for 20 seconds on with a 10 second rest for a total of 8 rounds. The 20 seconds of pushups, squats, or whatever form of exercise you choose feels like it last forever. Your muscles are quivering and sweat is dripping off you. Yet, those 10 seconds are over in a literal blink of an eye. I’m dead serious here! 

While life certainly doesn’t pass as quickly as the 4 minutes of Tabata, it does go by quickly.

In 8 months I’ll be 44. FOURTY FOUR!!!!

What? I’m gonna need a second to pick my jaw off the floor here. 

My 21 year old son is now a daddy to 2 year old and a 7 week old, both boys. I hold his newest baby and think, “Has it really been that long ago since I held my own boy?” I look into the eyes of this baby and see his daddy. It’s trippy.

A few weeks ago I attended the memorial of a woman, Clara, I met 28 years ago. As I was sitting there I began to look around the packed church. I wanted to get a glimpse of some of the people that had impacted by her. That’s when I saw my kindergarten teacher, Mrs. Nash. Tears immediately sprung to my eyes. I don’t have many memories of that time in my life, but I have a lots of good feelings about that year.

The winter before I entered kindergarten the school burnt down. I cried as I watched the flames from my kitchen window. I was 4  years old. I was devastated! I vividly remember a firefighter carrying me out of our house as I kicked and screamed that I wanted to stay. The idea of never learning how to read devastated me. My 4 year old self would have rather died than live with never learning how to read.

I know now that the school would be rebuilt, but I didn’t know that then.

So, I did the only thing that made sense.

I taught myself to read. 

In the fall of 1979, 6 weeks before my 5th birthday I walked into that kindergarten class pleased as punch that I already knew how to read. Being smart was (and still is) important to me.  I don’t know how Mrs. Nash did it, but she fostered a love of learning in me.  I am so grateful for that.

We made these little hand prints as Christmas presents. I remember making mine with such pride. I could barely contain my excitement and I can pretty much guarantee that I didn’t keep it a secret from mom and dad.

This hangs on my wall today as a reminder that I was once a small child full of imagination and dreams. I loved my mom, dad, and stuffed bear. I’d sing songs of my love for them.

At the memorial a friend encouraged me to make a point of getting together with the friends that are important to us every month so we’ll never have any regrets when one of us leaves this world. That has been on my mind for days now. So today I called up a woman I love dearly and we scheduled a time to get together. I don’t want to be so busy living life that I neglect the building and nurturing of relationship.

Who is the person you run into at the store or text and say “we need to get together someday” and mean it? Do it. Get it scheduled right now.

Time passes quickly. I want my time to be invested in building something that lasts. What about you?

 

Uncovered & Afraid

At the end day of doing nearly nothing I stepped into the shower and cried. Great big ugly tears with quiet sobs.

I think over recent conversations with one of my kids; the kind of conversation that reminds me of how I’ve failed them, hurt them, neglected them, and a slew of other things. I’ve heard it from each kid and my husband. Everyone is always feeling like I pay too much attention to someone else.

The tears in the shower didn’t start with thoughts about my kids. It started with my considering the Whole30 diet. (Diet is used for lack of a better word.) Basically, you eat meat, vegetables, and some fruits. You eliminate grains, legumes, dairy, sweeteners, and a few other things. The purpose is to reset your body by cutting out the foods that tend to damage our bodies. At the end of the 30 days you can begin to introduce different food groups to see how they affect you.

Since I miscarried in 2016 I stopped caring about this body that failed me; all the while feeling guilt over failing my body. I let sugar and processed foods have more room in my food choices. I disconnected from relationships and stopped caring about much.

A few weeks ago I heard myself tell me, “Okay, it’s time. Get up.”

Then I heard a couple of podcasts about fasting. Not the dietary kind of fasting, but the kind where we take our focus of ourselves and our vices to turn our eyes back to the things of God. Some people fast from social media or tv or late nights, whatever that may be. Whatever it is we are using to fill the void that only God can fill, that’s the thing we fast from.

I am in an unhealthy relationship with food. Yet, I can’t just fast from all food.

A few days ago a group of friends said they were starting Whole30. I said I wanted to join as soon as I could go grocery shopping. So, I headed over to Pinterest to learn more. I opened a dozen tabs in my browser as I perused recipes and tips.

And there I left them. For days.

After work one day I picked up Nancy’s burger and fries. Oh, and a milkshake that didn’t taste all that great. After all, if I’m cutting out foods I better eat something good, right?

Why do we do that? More specifically, why did I do that? What am I afraid of losing? What am I afraid of gaining? What does freedom look like?

I asked myself these questions as I drove home. With a knot in my stomach, it became more real to me of how I’ve allowed myself to be so enslaved by food. By the looks of it, most of this nation is in the same boat. The nation that claims to be all about freedom is slowly dying from their our addiction.

I’m afraid to start it just in case I fail one more thing. People hope I make it. Friends want good things for me. I know they do. I am the fattest girl in the room 99.9% of the time. I’m the one others mentally compare themselves to, “well, at least I’m not as big as her”. I know this because I’ve done it.

My husband asks me why I want to lose the weight and I don’t have a good answer. I know I want something more. It’s frustrating to him that I don’t have a thing that’s motivating me and that I’ll fail again if I don’t find that motivation. We stay up late into the night with him asking questions and me trying to find the answers.

All I know is that I don’t want to walk in the slavery of addiction and self hatred that I’ve seen in my life and in those around me. I want something different for my own kids. I want a life that is full of hope for them. I want them to create their own lives and not carry on the victim mentality or the quick fix mentality of “well, I can just take a pill to make me feel better” while not being willing to change anything in their lives.

I don’t know, these are all just thoughts rolling around in my head. I don’t have the answers. I do know that when I am consistently focused on writing in my gratitude journal, my personal journal, and reading my Bible I don’t struggle like this. I get focused and remember who I am and that I am so loved.

I titled this post as Uncovered and Afraid because that’s how I was feeling when I started writing this last night. Afraid of all these feelings. Afraid of what it would be like when I shared them with Lennox. Afraid of being public about any of the changes I want to make. Uncovered because this is THE battle I need to conquer. Talking about this is *almost* worse than standing physically naked in front of anyone.

Will you, once again, join me on this journey of discovery? Are you willing to explore what it is that holds you back? What is your passion? What do you wish you could do? What’s the thing you do or use instead of connecting with the Father?

Can you share that with me? Will you let those things go?

 

She Said: Sea Hag

Nearly every Wednesday evening you’ll find Lennox and I heading out on a date. We had fallen of the “date your spouse” wagon for a few weeks and it wasn’t good. When we met with an older couple for prayer and guidance the husband emphasized the importance of date night so much that his wife sighed saying, “okay, we all get the point!” So, date night resumed.

It’s important to date your spouse.

Last night Lennox announced he would be taking me to the beach for date night. He knows it’s my favorite place to be. It calms me. It opens my heart. It helps me to let go of all the things I carry.

As we drove I talked about how my dad and I would head to the coast when it was stormy. We’d always go to Depoe Bay. On the west side of highway 101 there’s a wall keeping you from falling on the rocks below. Rocks that are often pelted with the crashing waves, sometimes you’ll even see the water spout up out of the rocks! I remember being there one time during a storm when the water came so high over the wall onto the road. It was both frightening and exhilarating to witness from the safety of the restaurant.

With all this reminiscing we decided to head on down to Depoe Bay.

There’s something magical about standing on the walkway under the bridge. It was just Lennox, myself, the wind, and the water. I laughed as my hair whipped wildly around my face free of any restraint. It was the perfect moment.

As we ascended the stairs on the opposite side of the highway we passed the place where my dad would buy tickets to go whale watching. I’d get sea sick every time, but I’d go whenever my dad wanted to. It was fun for me to see his eyes light up when we were in the boat.

Finally, we entered Gracie’s Sea Hag. It’s been there for as long as I can remember. As a kid I’d only order a cheeseburger and fries wherever we went. Not this time, though.

I started with a delicious clam chowder. I’m not even a huge fan of clam chowder, but this was really good.

Has anyone ever wondered why we put oyster crackers in our clam chowder?

Then I had halibut and a baked potato. Lennox and I ordered different preparations of our halibut so we could share and compare. I ordered mine with a sweet coconut coating while his was a savory parmesan coating. I preferred his, mine was a little to sweet for me. Yet I ate it all because it was so good!

When the waitress came around asking if we’d like dessert I assumed it would be no. We don’t usually order a dessert, but Lennox asked for the options. Apparently we couldn’t pass by the amazing strawberry shortcake!

It was beautiful and delicious! I think I need to start serving food in fancy glasses at home so it tastes better!

We watched the ocean for a little longer before heading home.

This was a good date night. I’d say the best in a long time.

Now, we’re over budget for our January date nights. The next few will need to be free! Can’t wait to see what we come up with!

What are your favorite, out of the home, low cost or free date ideas?

For Lennox’s perspective of date night he sure to visit his blog, He Said: Sea Hag

5 Ways I Get Unstuck

I sit down at my desk to write, but nothing comes to me. I think of a video I recently watched about a Buzzfeed author who had a deadline, but couldn’t think of anything to write. She ended up writing about Malta and became an interenet sensation over there. Well, that’s great and good, but it’s been done. What could I possible write that will, in some small way, impact those who read it?

I put on some music, stare out my window at my garden, pick up my recorder in an attempt to make a happy sound, then stare out my window some more.

I remember reading Bird by Bird by Anne Lammot. She said her father, also a writer, told her that writers write every single day. There are no exceptions. I want to do that, but I haven’t been. I told Lennox that I wanted to post a blog 3 times a week, but that I wanted to write every day.

Where do I fit that in? Where do I prioritize my time? There are so many things calling for my attention that I often just feel overwhelmed and then do something useless. Then later I feel guilty about it. What a ridiculous cycle!

So, I came up with a few things that help get me back on track.

1. Make a brain dump. I have categories for household, personal, and work. I list everything that comes to my brain that I need or want to get done. Then I will highlight the things that absolutely must get done today. Once that has been established it’s easier to plan out the other things. I like to write it out by hand, it’s more therapeutic for me. However, doing it on the computer makes it easier to edit and organize later on.
2. Light and Fragrance – I’ll like to open up all the curtains to let the natural light come in. The light makes things look more alive. It also makes it look more dusty, but we don’t focus on that. I’ll open a couple of windows for fresh air even when it’s cold. I don’t do that for long, but I do like a good air cleansing.

   I have a few essential oil diffusers that I use, as well. I first fill the one by my front door. What is it that I want my family and guests to smell when they first walk in? Now that it’s fall I’ll likely put a mix of orange, clove, and cinnamon. That sounds warm and inviting. In the bathroom it’s likely going to be lemon and an oil called ‘purification’. I change it up in the bedroom often, but I like to use lavender and cypress at bedtime. Yesterday I diffused peppermint and lemon in the office for a nice little pick me up.

3. Music! What kind of music really gets you dancing? I find some upbeat music like “Eye of the Tiger” or “Better When I’m Dancing”. Whatever it is that gets you in a good mood and ready to work, go for it! Although, if I’m going to write or do desk work I listen to piano music by David Nevue.
4.  Set my timer and get to it. If it’s a lot of cleaning that needs to get done in different areas of the house then I’ll set the timer for 15 minutes and focus on 2 areas. Usually it’s the kitchen and my bedroom. So, for the first 15 minutes I’ll clean up the kitchen. Then for the second 15 I’ll work in my room. If the kitchen wasn’t finished in the first 15 minutes I’ll go back to that. Usually it doesn’t take more than 15 minutes to clean up an area. When one area is done I’ll move onto another area. After 3 – 15 minutes sets I’ll take a 15 minute break before starting again. I learned this technique from Flylady way back in 1999 or 2000 when she was just a simple email list. I use this method when I really just need to get a handle on the messiness of the house. Flylady is a great place to start if you’re looking at building a realistic household routine.

   If I have a lot of computer or desk work then I set the timer for 25 minutes at a time taking a 5 minute break between every 25 minute set. I’ll work at a specific task until it’s done or as my schedule allows. Depending on what I’m doing I can listen to music or a book  or even have a show playing in the background. I’m doing less of the latter since I am wanting to multitask even less to ensure that whatever it is that I am doing, I’m doing well.

5. Celebrate! Look at all I’ve accomplished and call it good. Even if I had interruptions or didn’t get as much done as I had hoped, I’m still closer to my goal than I was before I started. I feel better about the state of my home and about myself. It’s amazing how down we feel when we’re wasting our days away, but as soon as we become productive we feel better about ourselves.

   Before I even start I’ll have an idea of what my reward will be. Usually it’s a show I want to watch on the computer. So, I tell myself, “Okay, if you can be diligent for X amount of time then you can watch [whatever it is].” I know it’s silly, but it works!

   Tell me, what do you do when you feel yourself feeling overwhelmed and in a funk?

 

 

September, In Which We Begin Again

Autumn is in full swing with the first good rain visiting us in the last day or so. The temps at night have dipped low enough that we no longer keep the fan in our window as we sleep. Our air conditioner has run on high for much of the summer, but it’s been absolutely quiet for days.

I love it. This is my absolute favorite time of year.

Ireland is now in the 8th grade, her final year at school up on the hill. Volleyball is in full swing and we are having so much fun cheering her and her team on. Watching her play volleyball and basketball have become one of my favorite things to do!

Sage is in now a Sophomore. He’s loving his drama class and comes home every day telling us all about it. He has been chosen for the part he wanted and has plans on how to execute it well. I can’t wait to see the play!

Lennox and I are both encouraged in the growth of the kids over the summer. It started a little rough and we’ve had some challenging moments. Yet, we have all grown in relationship with one another. Both of the kids are more open in talking about some struggles and we all really enjoy being together. We love how each one of the kids will come home and chat with us for a long time about their day.

Last spring Lennox and I attended a training that specialized in how to connect with our teens and help them heal. It was specifically for parents of kids from hard places i.e. adoption, foster care, trauma, etc. The main thing we took away from it was to have one-on-one time with each child every week for about an hour. No screen time or money spending and the it’s totally child directed. It was hard at first and not very enjoyable for any of us, but we kept it up. No matter what, the kids couldn’t lose this time with us. Even if they had been raging and angry, when our time came around for one-on-one time we did it. We had already been doing weekly Family Nights, so with that we just made sure we kept it up consistently. If we were all separated for a couple of days for any reason we made sure to have a Family Night right away. It helps ground us all by connecting as a family again.

As any foster/adoptive family knows, navigating trauma triggers can be tricky and can come at you from out of nowhere. It can be something a friend or family member said, a a birthday (which it often is), maybe it’s food, or any number of things that we have yet to discover. We just had our first fall birthday of the household, 3 more to go before Christmas is here. All of these can be hard. Valuing relationship over everything, including poor choices and behavior has helped make these challenges more smooth.

One of our great successes involves laundry. One of my kids hates mixing their laundry with any one else’s, even if it’s a only a sock. They’ll take everything out of the washer to start their own laundry. In the past, if I’d ask them to just leave a few of the towels in there to get washed with their laundry it would set them off. The other day they came to me saying, “Mama, does the laundry in the washer need to be washed and do you have anything to wash? I just have a few things I want washed.” What? This is a HUGE thing to us.

As we are flying through the month of September we are feeling so encouraged in how things are going. We are looking forward to little Christopher’s 2nd birthday party this month. October brings a birthday and pumpkin patching. November brings 2 birthdays, Thanksgiving, and a baby shower for a new grandson. Then Christmas comes along with said grandson being born around then.

What are you most looking forward to this fall?

 

 

Total Eclipse of the Heart

Today is the first time in 38 years a total eclipse has been visible in our part of the world. There are countless memes, millions of travelers, and lots of money exchanging hands to capitalize on this event.

Yet for me, I’m remembering a different kind of eclipse. 33 years ago on this day I woke up knowing it was the day my mom would die. My 9 year old self just knew. My dad asked me that morning if I was coming with him to the hospital to see her. I replied, “No, I don’t want to see her die. She told me not to.” His eyes were sad as he turned to leave. He simply said, “Okay, if that’s what you want.” I did want to see her, but she told me not to so I didn’t go.

I spend the day 4 houses down from my own house. We were sitting down to eat dinner. I remember looking around the table and feeling like everything was quickly fading away. I started crying and screaming, “She’s dead!”. I have a vague memory of my friend’s dad carrying up the stairs to her room. I must have fallen asleep. Next thing I know, my dad is at the front door. I take one look at him and run home. I burst through the door to see my sister and her husband (at the time) in our living room. I think he told me mom had died, but I can’t remember the words.

Anguish overtook me. The world literally went black for me.

Nothing was the same after that.

I had already spent my early years feeling out of place as the brown adopted kid that wasn’t wanted. The days and weeks after that only confirmed the lie I believed about not belonging. It followed me around for decades and even now will rear it’s ugly head. Only now I can recognize it as a lie and dispel it before it has any power over me.

I spend the next 6-7 years crying myself to sleep every night. In fact, I think I’ve spent more than half my life crying myself to sleep. I spent decades entertaining suicidal thoughts and basking in depression. A quiet rage filled me. Sometimes it wasn’t so quiet.

I missed having mom at my highschool graduation. When she was in the hospital she told me to promise her that I’d graduate from highschool and not do drugs. I was committed to that. I was the first girl in our family to graduate from highschool. I don’t know if she did and I can’t imagine her mama did either since it wasn’t so common for a woman to do so back then.

I missed having her as a grandma to my firstborn.

I missed holidays. They pretty much quit after she died.

I missed watching Portland wrestling with her. My dad would watch it with me, but it wasn’t the same.

I remember her and a friend, Lois, singing Goodnight Irene. We were sitting at the kitchen table. I was in my dad’s chair as the two old ladies sang Good Night Irene. For some reason, it’s this moment that stands out to me. Her laughter came easily that evening and her green eyes shone brightly. I was sent to bed soon after that. I loved falling asleep listening to them laugh together.

I recently went to Buck Hollow Cemetery where my parents are buried. As I entered the graveyard I could clearly remember that first moment at the funeral. A group of people gathered, lots of flowers, and people looking at me with sad eyes. I’m seated in the front row. I look at the flowers and think, “Mom would like those flowers.” Then I remember why we’re there. I can’t remember crying. I don’t think I cried much in front of people. I’m more of a lone cryer.

Who was going to take care of me?
Who would love me?
How am I supposed to live without her?

I really did feel like life stopped for me.

I was surviving until I died and I hoped that happened sooner than later.

Those feelings have changed now. I don’t want to die. More than ever, I want to live fully in this life I’ve given.

I still wonder what it would have been like having a mom in my teen years. Yet, I’m also incredibly grateful for my life, even life without her. My dad was the best dad ever. I miss him more than I can even describe.

I will watch this eclipse with my family and friends. I will fully enjoy every moment with them.

What are your plans on this eclipse day?

 

 

 

 

 

I Am Racist

I share this adventurous life with a man of color.

I have noticed that in the past few years the racial divide seems to grow wider. But then I have questions:

Is the racial divide growing or am I simply becoming more aware?
Is the media bringing more awareness or creating a frenzy?
Is the hate becoming more socially acceptable due to our stance of “freedom of speech”? 
Why is it okay to spew hate and death wishes on people with darker skin, but it’s not okay to say Black Lives Matter? The BLM movement is NOT saying that cop lives or white lives matter less. Yet, the white supremacists clearly state that colored people or Jews need to be wiped off the face of this planet.

Isn’t this just the most adorable thing you’ve ever seen? It’s me. I know, it’s arrogant to say what I just said, but look at me. Is it weird that I look at this and I think what a wonderful thing it would be to pick up this baby and tell her how wonderful she is?

I am biracial. I have never ever thought of myself as such. I’ve always known that I am half Filipino and half white. Just look at those pictures, I am clearly mixed. I know I don’t look so much like it now and when I think of Lennox and I together I think of him as black and me as white.

I’ve grown to understand that racism isn’t only throwing rocks through windows and burning crosses on front lawns. It comes in a variety of ways. Are we impressed or surprised when a brown person speaks perfect English? Am I being offensive when I say “brown person”?

I don’t even know what to say in this blog post. I don’t know how much to share and I don’t want to expose how my husband feels. That’s his story.

Lennox and I had a raw, but good conversation about racism yesterday. I cried. I left a message for my friend who first introduced me to white privilege. I don’t even know if it made sense to him or if he thought I was still missing the mark. (Which I think I probably am.)

I see our current culture being compared to what it was before Hitler rose in power and I wonder if that same thing is happening now or has been happening for a long time. I bet many of the Jewish people that were persecuted were shocked to find out their best Gentile friend had not protected them. In fact, that same friend may have exposed them. When I talked with Lennox yesterday about how vocal I should be about this issue I suddenly blurted out, “I don’t feel safe. What if things do escalate and we become a target?”

I am watching the Facebook feed. I’m searching out who I think may be safe friends.

Yet, I do believe that being silent on this subject is the worst thing to do.

Will I let my Facebook become a place for debate? Not likely. Yet I don’t want to remain silent.

Do people love my husband because he’s an articulate black man? Is he a novelty because he’s not like the black people on tv?

Now, why did I state in the title that I’m racist? I would have never said that 10 years ago. But in 2015 something happened.

I was at a conference in Portland for the weekend. I had decided to go for a walk/jog. I was near Pioneer Square so I pretty much knew I wouldn’t get lost. I set out on my merry way. Everything is clean for several blocks. Then I notice the smell of urine. I look around and see a few black people on the block, less than 10. Some were high, some were sleeping, and there was a drug deal going on. They all looked at me as I passed. My senses were heightened. I was scared. I was too scared to look back.

I get past that block and keep going. As I turn to go back to the hotel I come to another block smelling of urine. There are 20 or more homeless looking white men milling about. One of them comes up to me as I’m waiting for the light to change. He’s standing an inch from me as he asks me if I’d go out with him. He was quite insistent. The light changes and I go on my way taking one last glance back to make sure he wasn’t following me.

Then it hit me. I was NOT in the least bit afraid of that man or any other man on that block. I was aware, but not frightened. I was clearly outnumbered, anything could have happened to me.

That is racism. I was more afraid of a handful of black people than I was of a group of white men.

I say in the title that I am racist. It’s not true, but I do believe we can all do things that are racist. People can do an unkind act while not being an unkind person. That one act does not identify who we are as a person.

We Were Set Up

Lennox and I were lying in bed one evening as I took a journey back through my blog glancing at every post in the month of June dating back to 2009.

I laughed aloud as I read quotes from “my one friend” aka Lennox. Haha!  I remember him asking me, “Who are the men in your life that fight for you?” I didn’t know what he meant so he said, “How do I fight for you? I give voice to your needs before God. Intercession, lost art of the warrior. You will also know that a man fights for you when he speaks Gods word over you. In order to recognize that, you’ll need to know God’s word to you.”  Wow, eh?! One of the things I admired most about him then and love about him now is how he is faithful to encourage me to turn my eyes to God and His Word.

Lennox fought for me then in his role as my friend. Now he fights for me as his wife and I fight for him.  He’s my champion and I’m his. We’re each other’s biggest fans!

One day at church we sang Amazed by Lincoln Brewster. As we were singing a picture came to me in the form of storyboards like for a movie. This is what I wrote about it back then:

The background is white, the drawings are rendered in charcoal. The people are in stick figures. First scene: Tight shot. The setting is a battle field. There I am in a fetal position in the center of the battle. There is a sword and a shield lying next to me. My eyes are tightly shut. My friend is standing next to me brandishing a sword in his right hand. In his left is a shield that is over me. Next scene. A bit wider angle. There is a battle raging. I open my eyes and see the destruction. I am scared. I will not move. My friend is still standing over me speaking to me, but he is listening to someone he calls the Captain. He’s passing the Captain’s words on to me since I can’t seem to hear the Captain clearly. Next scene: Wider angle. The Captain is dancing around us and He is singing. I incline my ear. I still can’t quite hear him. My eyes are on the battle. My friend is still talking to me and telling me to look to the Captain. I am not in such a tight ball, but I am still lying on the field. Next scene: My hands are slowly reaching out to my sword and shield. I am beginning to hear the Captain for myself. So I listen more intently. Next scene: I am on my knees, still clutching my weapon. I am watching the Captain and listening. My friend is still speaking the Captain’s words. I can hear both. Next scene: I am up, back to back with my friend. Fighting the battle. My eyes on my Captain, Jesus, my ears inclined to His song. My friend still speaks the Captains words to me and I to him.

As I read through other blog posts from the past 8 years I can clearly see that the Lord was setting us up for one another. We both had so much growing to do. Shoot, Lennox was still in Hollywood until December 2009, I had no idea he’d ever move up here.

This picture is from August 2010 or “The Day Lennox Chased Me Into a Field” as I like to call it. I remember looking up and seeing him walk around to the back of my house and head toward me. Once he got to me he said, “I’d rather be watching Stargate, but here I am with you. I don’t know why I’m here, I don’t do this.”

Well, apparently he does for me. Every time I’d get scared and he felt me pulling away from him he’d come and talk to me about it. Every time he’d say, “I’m not doing this again, I’m not coming after you. Can’t you trust me after all this time?” The last time he said it was in November of 2014. We were in his car when he said, “I’m not coming after you this time.” Then after about a 5 second pause he said, “Yes, yes I am. I don’t know why I keep doing this. I don’t do this for anyone else.”

Five months later he tells me I’m the one for him. Today, July 14, 2017 marks 14 months of marriage. He counts the days in his head, I use an app. It’s been 426 days!

So, here we are in our wedded bliss. We still venture out into fields, only this time we go together.