I Know Who I Want My Daughter(s) to Marry

Since we'd attended the evening service at our church the night before, we were excited about a non-rushed, non-hurried, slower-pace Easter Sunday morning at home with each other.

The girls got to take their time with their Easter baskets.  They made resurrection rolls.

And then our plan was to make these cute little things to take to the grandparents' house for lunch.

But as I pulled everything out I needed, I suddenly realized I'd forgotten to purchase one crucial item when making cupcakes.  The cupcake liners.

Derek was standing in the kitchen when I realized my mistake, when I whispered "Uh oh", and when the thought of someone (um...him) going out to purchase some crossed my mind.

I made eye contact with him and gave him the "look". 

The silent, but weighted, look which said, "So...any chance you'd maybe, possibly throw on some clothes, get in your truck, drive to Wal-Mart on Easter morning to pick up white (has to be white, because well...sheep are white) cupcake liners even though I've already made about ten trips to the store this week but still forgot to get cupcake liners and since it would take me about ten times as long as you to get dressed and since I really need to stay here to prepare the cupcake mix and since you are such a wonderful husband...and dad...please..."

He saw the look.  He interpreted the look.  And responded,

"You know I really love you..."

Then he was off.  Half an hour later, he returned with exactly what our soon-to-be flock of sheep needed.

But it was while he was gone that I thought about the interaction we'd had that morning.  And how it could have gone very differently.

He could have completely rejected my non-verbal suggestion. 
He could have gotten frustrated with me for being forgetful, for not having my ducks...er...sheep in a row. 
He could have said, "No way. I've been going all week and I don't want to go anywhere this morning."
He could have said, "You go. This is your deal. You forgot. You go get what you need."
He could have gotten angry with me for even suggesting he be the one to go to the store.

But he didn't. 

Which is exactly why my eyes leaked a few tears that morning.
And also why, when he left, I thought, "I know exactly who I want my girls to marry."

A man very much like their dad. 

The same man who didn't respond in anger when I hit the side of the car while I was pulling it into our garage...twice.
Or when I backed that same car into a friend's car on New Year's Eve over seven years ago, days before leaving for a vacation to Disney World.
Or when I overspend on groceries.
Or when I accidentally spilled bleach on his most favorite Gap khaki shorts.

A man who is not easily angered.
A patient man who calms a quarrel versus a hot-tempered one who stirs up dissension.
A man who does not give full vent to his anger like a fool.
A man led by the Spirit, not hot-headed and reckless with his words or actions.
A man who is slow to anger, abounding in love.

Not a doormat or a pushover.  But a man who knows when and where to express anger, and in the right way.

Those who know Derek may say he was born with this personality.  Lack of Italian or Irish blood makes for a calmer demeanor. Maybe.

But in the sixteen years we've been married, of course, I've seen my husband frustrated. 
I've seen him angry. At idiocracy. At ignorance. And most certainly at injustices.

But I've also seen him restrain his anger.  I've seen him purposely walk away, choosing not to react by blowing a gasket, but instead, responding with grace. 

I've learned so much being the recipient of that grace, by watching him, living with him.
And that's what I want for my girls.  It's what I pray for my girls.

I want Grace and Gloria to hand over their hearts to trustworthy men.  Men who love their God and love them intensely.  Not men who'll trample them in easily-angered, easily-offended, or easily frustrated moments of foolish rage in this age of rage, when it seems many are angry about something, or everything.

I want them to be connected forever to a man like their father.  A man who is connected forever to his Heavenly Father. 

Connected to a God who does not treat us as our sins deserve.  A God who responds to our shortcomings, our mistakes, our human frailties with the same words Derek spoke to me on Easter morning,

"You know I love you..."  

A God who is slow to anger, abounding in love.

 

Happy 16th Anniversary to us!

When It's Best to Just Shut Up

We're celebrating fifteen years of marriage today.  And for the sake of reminiscing, I'm sharing a few pictures of a certain young, innocent (& pretty clueless) couple back in the day on July 11, 1998:

On one hand, I cannot believe it's been that long.  On another, I cannot believe it's only been that long.

In fifteen years of marriage, I'd like to think I've learned a thing or two about living blissfully with my man. 

Things like respecting and honoring and trusting and supporting.  All really good things.  And about listening and observing and encouraging and praying.  All really great things. 

But one of the biggest lessons I'm afraid I'll still be learning until the whole "death do we part" thing can be summed up by any one of these phrases:

Be quiet.
Zip it.
Shush.
Close your mouth.
Silencio, por favor.
Hold your tongue.
Shut up.

However you choose to say it, they all mean the same thing.

Don't. Say. Another. Word.

I know the last one on the list sounds harsh.  Believe me, it sounded harsh fifteen years when it was said in my very own wedding ceremony...by my husband's friend and college mentor who was co-officiating the ceremony. 

After the vows, ring exchange, and unity candle, our friend stopped to take a moment to offer some personal words of wisdom and encouragement to both of us before we were announced as husband and wife.

He started with my husband.  He recalled a time in college when he felt my husband was holding back emotionally.  He emphasized the vital importance of him sharing his innermost feelings.  Of being open and vulnerable, even when it was hard.  Of trusting someone else (namely me, the new wife) with both his pains and his joys.

Then our friend shifted his attention to me.  He began with a story of another couple he'd counseled.  He told how the wife had come to him expressing her dissatisfaction with her husband's leadership and asked his advice as to what she should do.  Our friend said he knew the answer.  She just needed to "shut up...be quiet...and pray".  His implication:  I may need to do the same whenever I felt the same.

It was a stereotypical gender analysis.  Man needs to talk more, woman less. 

At first, I bristled.  I didn't like the way it sounded to my ears.  Even as gentle and as calm and as kind as he tried to say it, he still said it.  He said the words, "shut up" in my wedding ceremony and I was stunned.

Naive and inexperienced, I certainly had no idea how to navigate the waters of a godly marriage.  I had no idea what was ahead and had no idea how much I needed to hear those words.  But our friend apparently did.  He knew I'd need to hear them.  Maybe not then, but most definitely later.  Especially fifteen years later.

There are certainly times when it's beneficial and appropriate to speak up; I do not condone being a doormat.  As a matter of fact, I come from a long, female bloodline of "non-doormats".  But other times, I must confess.  It's best to just shut up.

So yes, I'm still learning this:

I spend most of my days overseeing, managing, correcting and teaching my girls.  I do all of this and all of that.  I'm a caretaker and a mama...just not my husband's.

And at no time do I desire to be this...

"A nagging spouse is like the drip, drip, drip of a leaky faucet;
You can't turn it off, and you can't get away from it."
Proverbs 27:15-16 (The Message)

No ma'am.  No sir.

Instead, I'd rather choose to:

*respect versus reprimand.
*encourage instead of enrage.
*agree instead of argue.
*consider instead of correct.

When I forget (and I will), I hope to call to mind the story of Daniel in the lion's den. 

I will try to remember the ferocious, ready-to-devour beasts as they stood before one of God's children.

And I will remember how an angel of the Lord was sent to still the lions.  To shut their mouths so they could not hurt or wound (Daniel 6:22a).  All because of prayer.

Harsh?  Maybe.  But sometimes harsh makes you think.  Especially when it's also true.  And helpful.  And inspiring.  And necessary.  And kind. 

So I finish with this:


Thanks to my pastor for this gem. :)

Lord, I know there's a time for everything.  

There's a time to speak and a time to be silent (Ecclesiastes 3:7b). 

Give me the wisdom to know the difference. 

Shut my mouth if what I'm about to say is not true, helpful, inspiring, necessary and kind.  

And may you richly bless the next fifteen+ years of my marriage as you have the first fifteen.  

Amen.

Tell & Show...or the Other Way Around

Me:  "Honey, listen.  You've got to hear this." 

Without hesitating to see if he was ready to listen, I proceeded to read aloud the last sentence I'd just read in my book to him.

Me:  "What do you think?  Wasn't that good?"

Him:  "Yes.  It was.  I liked it."

Me:  "Don't you love the way the author penned those words together?  Don't you think it was a beautiful way to illustrate such a point?"  

I do this all the time to him.   I read something incredible and I feel compelled to share it.   I'm forever drawn into someone else's words.   I'm a sucker for a well-written, well-thought out sentence, paragraph, or story.

Him (with a twinkle in his eye):  "You know...I'm kinda surprised you married me."

Me:  "What?!? 
Why would you even say something like that?  That's not funny. 
Oh. Wait... 
I think I know why you said that. 
Because in fourteen years, you've only expressed your feelings for me in writing a few times. 
Is that it?"

Him:  "I'm sorry I don't tell you how I feel with a lot of words."

Me:  "That's okay.  You do tell me.  And you always show me--with your actions."

"Dear children, let us not love with words or speech but with actions and in truth.”

1 John 3:18

Fourteen years ago today, my husband and I ate dinner at the local Red Lobster in our college town.  Well, I should say I ate.  He barely touched his food and at the time, I had no idea why. 

Now I know.  The poor thing was too nervous to eat.  He was thinking about his course of action in the next hour.  The hour that would redefine our lives as individuals, and redefine us as a couple.

After dinner, we headed back to the college campus, where we had both graduated the previous spring.  He told me he needed to go by the chapel to check on something for a friend. 

Of course, I followed.  As we climbed the stairs and approached the front entrance, I noticed a sign on the outside of the door which read, "Please do not enter tonight, Saturday, January 17th."  Being the rule-follower I am, I insisted we could not go in.  He insisted we could.

When we opened the door, the first thing I noticed was how dim the chapel looked, except for one spotlight and two solitary chairs facing one another on the stage.  He escorted me to one and he sat down in the other. 

From his lips and from his heart, he spoke Ephesians 5:25 to me,  "Husbands, love your wives, just as Christ loved the church and gave Himself up for her." 
Slowly, but deliberately, he got up and returned with a basin of water and a towel.  In a very humbled manner, he removed my shoes and began to wash my feet.  In a similar humbled manner, I began to cry.

He told me he loved me.  For the first time.  Words he'd reserved until he had the freedom and peace to speak them aloud.  And then...

He pulled out the box, which held my ring.  He asked the question I hoped he'd ask.  And I gave the answer he hoped I'd give.

 

Years later, my husband still loves me the way Christ loved the church. 

You see, Jesus set the example for him to follow.  He didn't only say He loved us with words.  He showed us by His actions, with the most profound display of love ever demonstrated.  He gave Himself up for us.

And so continues the story of our relationship today. 

I still talk. He still listens.

I could be described as the colorful, communicative type.   He's definitely the strong, silent type.

My words, most often, are many.  His words are few.

But one thing I know.  One thing I don't doubt. 

My husband loves me.

How can I be sure?

He tells me.  And He shows me--with His actions, always with his actions.

"Dear children, let us not love with words or speech but with actions and in truth.”

1 John 3:18

A Letter to the Bride

My dearest bride,

Thirteen years ago was your wedding day.  The day you'd imagined since you were a little girl.  The day where all your dreams came true.  The day you married your doting Prince Charming.  The day your real-life fairy tale began.  The day your "happily ever after" became a reality. 

You knew better than to place all your focus and all your finances strictly on the wedding day.  You knew it was but a day in the grand scheme of your life.  But you also recognized July 11, 1998, as holy, as sacred, as set apart to honor the union of you and the one God had chosen for you. 

Your desire was to see God glorified and to demonstrate gratitude to the One who brought you and your beloved together.  You wanted to celebrate your love with all your family and all your friends, who would serve as witnesses to this momentous occasion.  You clung to the hope that every detail of this day would be etched in your heart and mind forever.  And it would be.  Forever.

Your wedding is but a memory now.  The marriage began when two separate-thinking, separate-feeling individuals joined together to become one and thus, formed a new family unit.  For the first five years of your marriage, life was pretty simple.  You started your careers.  You both taught school.  You labored in the Lord together.  You traveled.  You reveled in life as it was.  You enjoyed each other to the fullest.

Baby girl #1 arrived and your family grew.  So did your responsibilities.  So did your love.  You saw each other as partners in this crazy, but overwhelming, task of parenting.  You needed each other more than ever to overcome the numerous challenges that inevitably came with having a newborn.  But you survived.  As a matter of fact you treasured your new role as Mom.  So much so, you desired another little one.

Baby girl #2 joined the family three and half years later.  With her arrival, life became busier, but also more fulfilling.  You were extremely grateful for your newest gift and managed to juggle having two little blessings completely dependent upon you.  You cared.  You cried.  You prayed.  And suddenly, the realization hit you that life was no longer so simple. 

Years later, your heart is content.  You feel an overwhelming sense of gratitude for all you've been given.  You're in a good rhythm, singing new songs and learning to dance new steps each day of your life.  Your home is filled with the goodness and grace of a loving and faithful God. 

Amazingly, your husband still adores you.  Still considers you a most cherished treasure in his life.  Still honors you, loves you, and cares for you as he publicly promised he would on your wedding day.

You feel the same way.  Your beloved is your best friend.  He is your strength.  He is your calm in the storm.  He rights a multitude of wrongs.  He speaks with wisdom and truth.  He is well respected.  He is an invaluable helpmate and trustworthy provider.  You have an amazing man, a reflection of your Savior, with whom to share your life.  You love him with all of your heart.

Be forewarned.  Over the years, there will be times of tension.  Moments of misunderstanding.  Seasons of struggle.  Lest you forget, may I remind you that forgiveness is paramount.  Listening is essential.  Silence is golden.  Compassion is key.  Take heart.  True love conquers all.

Most importantly, remember that your marriage to your beloved is a symbolic picture of Jesus' precious relationship with His radiant bride, the church.  You were called and sanctified.  You are pure and holy.  You are unblemished and unparalleled, all because of Jesus, your bridegroom.  He is passionate and patient, as He waits to be with His bride.  He longs to celebrate with those He loves. 

Trust me, the union will ultimately be a day you will never forget, just like your own wedding day thirteen years ago.  It will permanently be etched in your heart and mind.  Forever.

Lovingly,
Michele

Running a Good Race

In preparation of the upcoming Peachtree Road Race, and in honor of our approaching thirteenth wedding anniversary, I'm posting something I journaled nearly a year ago.

A strange mixture of feelings engulfed me as I awoke Sunday morning:  anticipation, excitement, fear, nervousness, hope, uncertainty, and relief.  My feelings were justified.  For you see, Derek and I were about to run in our first-ever 10K race, Georgia's own Peachtree Road Race, to be precise.  Ever since I started working out two years ago, I had this goal in mind—to run down the streets of hot Atlanta, on the fourth of July, with 50,000 other people doing the exact same thing.  Now it was time. 

As our wave of runners approached the starting line, I had already been to the Port-a-Potty five times, because of the amount of water they tell you to drink before running, but mostly because of my hyperactive nerves.  For an ardent observer like me, the visual and auditory stimuli were almost overwhelming at times.  I watched the people intensely—how they prepared, what they were wearing, how they behaved.  I heard the announcer on the loudspeaker, giving instructions, encouraging the crowd, counting down.  I looked up and saw the enormous American flag waving over my head, and most of all, I felt the near-smothering intensity of the runners on every side of me.  Truly, this is a day to celebrate and remember forever.

"Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles, and let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us.  Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy set before him endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God.  Consider Him who endured such opposition from sinful men, so that you will not grow weary and lose heart." Hebrews 12:1-3

The crowd started running and we joined them.  I set the timer on my watch, smiled at Derek and we headed off.  We had discussed starting slowly, making sure we paced ourselves for the 6.2 miles looming ahead of us.  In this case, it was easy to do that.  The number of people surrounding us made a quick sprint near impossible.  The feeling was exhilarating.  A friend told me running the Peachtree could be compared to being in a parade.  She was correct.  There were bands playing upbeat music throughout the course.  There were unknown fans on either side cheering for perfect strangers.  And there was a feeling of expectancy in the air.

My prayer leading up to the race was that Derek and I would run the race marked out for us with perseverance and that we would run without growing weary or losing heart.  I also had some personal goals.  I did not want to stop running, unless absolutely necessary.  Even if it was a very slow jog, I wanted to keep moving.  Derek and I had also discussed the possibility of one of us running ahead in case the other one had to stop.  We agreed, for the most part though, to stay with each other throughout the race. 

Sometime after mile four, Derek looked at me, utterly exhausted and clearly struggling with the constant pain in his knee and said, "I have to stop.  You go on."  Really?  Now?  We just made it over the infamous "Cardiac Hill".  We're over half-way there.  We can do anything now.  We're on the down-hill slide.  Come on, Derek.  Don't stop.  Keep running.  As much as he wanted, he couldn't keep going at that moment.  He was in pain.  He was wounded.  He didn't want to fall.  He needed to rest.

So, I had a choice to make in that moment.  Would I run ahead of him, leaving him on his own, or would I stay?  My heart was pumping.  My legs were moving.  I was experiencing what they call, "a second wind".  I wanted to pick up the pace, and Derek needed to slow it down.  

Therefore, in a very uncharacteristic, unselfish move on my part, I chose to slow down my run to a near stagnant jog.  He earnestly tried to wave me on, saying, "Go!"  I kept turning around, saying, "No, come on!"  I stayed just a bit in front of him, constantly looking back over my shoulder to see how he was doing, watching runners who we'd passed earlier, whizzing past us.  It was frustrating and honestly more than this competitive first-born could handle.

After a few minutes passed, I looked back impatiently, and saw Derek running to catch up with me. With huge smiles on our perspiring faces, we pressed on.  Still trying to encourage him, I eagerly sought out the mile five sign up ahead and said, "Come on.  This thing is almost over.  We can do it."  Those words became a mantra in my head, as well as, words I spoke to him as we passed mile six and came closer to the finish line. 

As we sprinted downhill for the last part of the race, the action intensified.  People seemed to be everywhere.  A great cloud of witnesses, spectators, on both sides of the street, cheered us on toward our goal.  I was overwhelmed with emotion at that moment.  I looked over at Derek and said, "Give me your hand."  I wanted to cross the finish line with my husband, hands held high in victory, celebrating our accomplishment. 

"You were running a good race.  Who cut in on you and kept you from obeying the truth?  That kind of persuasion does not come from the One who calls you." Galatians 5:7-8

But as he reached out to grab my hand, out of nowhere, a woman cut in front of him, becoming this huge obstacle for him to avoid.  She and Derek nearly collided so close to the final leg of the race.  By the grace of God, and minus any major stumbles, he managed to get around her without injury and catch back up with me a few steps from the finish line.  Amazingly, we had reached our destination.  Race over.  Mission accomplished.

"Do you not know that in a race all the runners run, but only one gets the prize?  Run in such a way as to get the prize." 1 Corinthians 9:24

Exhausted and trying our best to recover from the run, we followed the weary crowd toward the volunteers handing out souvenir bags.  Only the participants who finish the race get their much-anticipated prize, the coveted Peachtree Road Race t-shirt.  As the bag was placed into my hands, I held on to it for dear life.  A feeling of pure exhilaration surged through me.  So proud that we'd run in such a way as to get the prize.  Our desire was to finish well, finish strong.  We did.  Together.  Just the way we imagined when we started this adventure a long time ago.

"But thanks be to God!  He gives us victory through our Lord Jesus Christ."

1 Corinthians 15:57

Thank you, Jesus, for setting the ultimate example for us to follow.  You endured the cross and never gave in to the opposition from all sides.  You finished strong and were victorious.  Specifically, today I pray for my marriage.  As Derek and I approach our twelve-year wedding anniversary, may You continue to strengthen us, reminding us to throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles.  Let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us.  Let us fix our eyes on You, the author and finisher of our faith.  May we run and not grow weary, nor lose heart, knowing that we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses.  Empower us to run in such a way as to get the prize--Your approval, Your affirmation, Your blessings.  We are running a good race.  Protect us from those people and circumstances that might try to cut in on us and keep us from obeying the Truth.  May we finish well and finish strong.  Thanks be to You, God!  You give us victory through our Lord Jesus Christ.  Amen.

July 7, 2010