The Cost of Love

 

Feeling a little sad this morning.  We decided it was time to say goodbye to our old boy Packer last night.  He was a fixture in our lives for 14+ years, and the house feels strange without him.  I missed him limping his way over to me this morning to give me a good morning hug.  He was a crazy dog...but he was so sweet and I loved him the best I could.

As I contemplate my heartache over a dog...it strikes me that God is love.  Jesus came in love.  The Holy Spirit ministers to us in love.  We are made in His image, and we are called to so thoroughly love that it's becomes a badge that enables the world to identify the followers of Jesus.

But there's a serious cost to follow that call.

It costs us to love.  It costs our very selves because love is an utterly selfless thing.  It is caring about someone else even above ourselves.  It is sacrificing and compromising and all giving...all pouring out.

Thankfully, love is designed to be a relationship - a two way street - a pouring out AND a filling up. 

We love God and He loves us infinitely MORE.

We love a spouse and they love us back.

We love and old dog and we're met with faithful tail wags, a little jump of joy when they see us, and a sweet friendly presence to be with us...even if they are a hairy mess with awful (AWFUL) breath!

It's designed to be good and beautiful - a literal reflection of the amazing heart and character of our Creator.

But still...there's a heavy cost when choosing to love in this lifetime.

Too often, love is not reciprocated.

Too often, "love" is selfish and cruel (not actually love, but a misuse of the word).

Too often, the one(s) who are meant to love us the most are wrapped up in fear and hurt and lies...the best they can do is respond harshly and selfishly instead of gently as they strive to protect their already wounded heart. All they can pour out to their partner is the fear and hurt and lies that they're ruled by...and this upside down culture of ours encourages this as "strength" or "toughness" or "independence".

And even when we do find/discover/develop a (near) perfect Godly love that removes fear...that is patient and kind...that is giving and humble...that is honoring and self-giving...that is slow to anger an forgives quickly...that is a source of joy and comfort

...even then, there is a cost.

There is the cost demanded by time itself.

We see the precious hands weaken and the wrinkles set in.  The hair grays and the walk slows.  Time marches...marches...marches...

We know where it's leading.  We tuck the dread away, and pray an earnest, "Maranatha!" 

Yet, despite the cost, I choose love.

I choose connection and tenderness.

I choose to give my heart...my whole self...away.

Yes, there is a very steep cost of love...

...and I believe it's worth it.

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Job Description: Don't Work

 

God whispered to me while I ironed today


Have --->  Do --->  Be

vs

Be --->  Do --->  Have

As one of my favorite teachers shared recently, the world would have us operate out of a place of what we HAVE in an effort to eventually work our way to who we ARE/ want to BE = Striving. Earning. Grinding.

The Lord teaches differently. He starts with who we ARE…our identity. And everything flows from there = Peace. Contentment. Confidence.

As I ironed, I heard that still small voice say “this is a perfect example”

I used to HATE ironing. I mean absolutely loathe it.

But today I found myself enjoying it because I adore my husband. I love being his wife. I relish little things I can do to help him and care for him.

I ironed carefully and lovingly out of who I AM. I am the well-loved, adored, and precious wife of Luke Fouch 

The reason I used to hate ironing for him was because I was operating from a place of “should”. It felt like an obligation and a chore. I thought that to be a “good wife”, ironing was something I needed to do. (To be clear, he never once asked me to iron for him. He’s quite capable and willing to do his own ironing.)

I was trying to DO in order to become someone I aspired to be.

Now, I know who I AM, and I do things out of that place of wholeness and strength.

Do you see the difference? It seems subtle, but it’s a massive 180° turn.

The irony is that when I operated out of obligation and “should”, I never actually achieved my goal. All my work was for nothing. I was left always feeling like I could have done better…and that I was never quite good enough.

Now, I START “good enough”. More than good enough, actually. Everything that flows out of that identity is just icing on the cake.

It’s the same with our relationship with God.

The world and the spirit of religion demand our obedience and hard work to achieve the title “good Christian” or “good child of God”.

But God asks us to operate differently. He tells us right off the bat, “YOU ARE MY CHILD AND I LOVE YOU”.

And He expects us to operate FROM His love and acceptance…not FOR His love and acceptance.

The heart of it is this: can I trust Him? Can I rely entirely on His Word EVEN if it’s contrary to what I see with my own eyes sometimes??

Will I be a “sensual” Christian, believing my senses and experiences?

Or will I totally surrender and believe the Word NO MATTER WHAT?

It’s ironic really…the hardest work God calls us to is the difficult job of STOPPING all the hard work!

Surrender
Rest
Enjoying Him
Peace
Wholeness
Contentment

It’s a great job to have…and the benefits package is amazing ;-)

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On Fear...

 

I used to be tormented...TORMENTED...by fear.

In the first few years of our marriage, Luke travelled for work more than he was home. You'd think I would have just grown accustomed to it. Instead, I sat in a stew of fear and dread and imaginary funerals. It was a horrible existence for me every time he packed a suitcase.

The birds of worry and fear not only circled overhead...they had a permanent nest there. The noise, smell, and mess under a nasty bird's nest is no place to live.

This morning, I woke to those familiar voices of fear whispering in my ear.

As I went to Luke, snuggled up in his arms, I was about to say "I'm afraid, will you pray for me?"...when I heard the Holy Spirit say "DON'T SAY IT. DON'T AGREE WITH THEM."

Instead, I simply hugged him and told him I loved him.

I will not speak the words "I'm afraid" because I recognize the voice that is suggesting that I live in fear today. It is the voice of the liar, and I will simply not agree. I will not use my voice to speak lies.

"There is no fear in love; but perfect love casts out fear..."

Lord, please apply your perfect love to the parts of me that are being tempted by the voice of fear right now. You ARE perfect love - thank you for casting out fear!

Fear, I reject you. I do not agree with your lies. You must go.

I will set my eyes on Jesus.

I will worship.

I will rejoice and be glad in this new day.

I will testify of His goodness.

I will agree with the Spirit within me and His peace, joy, patience, love, and goodness.

My flesh has been crucified with Christ, along with it's tendency to fear. I now live and walk by the Spirit of God Almighty.

I am free...I am free indeed!

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My Best Dream

It was a cool evening in late summer.  I was leaving home the next morning - my family would drive me to my first year of college the next morning.  I was excited.  Scared.  Uncertain.  Conflicted.  Was I doing the right thing?

As I often did, I opened my bedroom window and removed the screen from the sill, and climbed out onto the little section of roof outside.  I curled my knees to my chest, took a deep breath, and sighed as I stared up at the evening sky.  Are you there, God?  I don't know if I'm doing the right thing.  Please help me figure this out.

I waited and waited.  The navy sky deepened in to a heavy blanket of black with stars twinkling through the fabric of night.  The crickets chirped their reliable song from the grass below.  The air became chilly...cold even as the breeze fluttered through my hair and chilled the tears that trickled down my cheeks.

When no answer streaked across the night sky or even whispered in my ear, I gave up.  I crawled into my bedroom to sleep in my childhood bed for the last time as a full time resident there.  As I laid in bed, I thought of the black shoebox still sitting on the bed near my feet.  It was filled with an old dream.

Love notes.  A little stuffed gorilla.  A worn and faded football t-shirt.  A tape filled with his voice.  A small bottle of his favorite cologne.  Memories of what I once thought was real and lasting love.

He had asked me to marry him.  I graduated from high school, and he came back from college to whisk me away just as we'd planned just a couple of years before.  He still felt it.  He still wanted the future we'd both dreamed of.  But my heart, no matter how I tried to re-kindle what I'd once felt, had moved on.  There was no going back.  I didn't love him anymore.  I cared enough that it nearly killed me to tell him the truth - to see the pain in his eyes - to feel him fight tears as he held me and asked me to just try a little harder. 

But I couldn't.  I couldn't love him, and I didn't know why.

He was two years into a college program in another state.  I was signed up and ready to follow him there - to try convincing my heart to love him.  I was also signed up to go to a state college just 4 hours from home.  When I woke in the morning, what would I do?  Would I go with the plan of going to school closer to home, or would I announce to my parents that I wanted to go even farther away to chase what might be my one chance for love?  

The what-ifs and the should-I's and the can-I's circled in my brain as I drifted off to sleep.  One last call to the Maker of the stars...help...please help me...I don't know what to do.

Help came in the form of a dream.

In my dream, I was walking alone in a golden ripe wheat field.  The wheat was high,

 and I skimmed my fingers over the soft heads of grain as I walked.  

The color...oh, the color...the field glowed with the light of sunshine. 

 It was the most beautiful color I'd ever seen in my life.  

Was this real?  Was beauty like this even of this planet?  

The sky was a vibrant blue, with puffy clouds floating on the breeze.  

Suddenly, I was no longer walking alone.  A man came up to me on my left, and 

draped his arm over my shoulders.  It was second nature for me to 

wrap my arm around his waist.  We walked side by side.  We 

fit perfectly.  Being with him was...bliss.

I was overcome by the...rightness...of being with this man.  

He was perfect.  He was mine.  

He was who God made just for me, and I for him.  

I can still feel the swell in my heart in that dream as if I just woke from it.  

I thought I'd burst with sheer joy and contentment. 

 I longed for nothing, but to be with him.

And then, a voice.  What was this voice?  

"This, Daiquiri.  This is how it is supposed to be.  Wait.  He is not the one."

Yes.  Yes, I know.  This is how it is supposed to be.  I looked up and to my left. 

 I wanted to see his face.  I wanted to know who he was.  

He had golden hair - his hair was the same color as the wheat field we 

were walking through.  But his face...somehow I knew that he was 

looking down at me and smiling...but his face was a blur.

And then I woke.  It was morning, the day I was to leave.  With utter confidence and peace, I got out of bed, put the lid on that shoebox, and slid the box under my bed.  It would stay behind.  God has a different future planned for me.

Fast forward a year.  

I had spent my first year at college at that state school.  I had a lot of fun.  I changed my major about 5 times.  I learned for certain that I was not supposed to be an accountant.  I went to parties.  I drank too much.  I made friends I'll have forever.  I dated.  I got good grades.  And the next thing I knew, I was registered to go to a different school the next year.  I was having a "who am I and what should I do" crisis, and somehow, somewhere along the way, I decided that I needed to go to Moscow, Idaho and attend the University of Idaho.  

I truly don't remember making the decision.  Suddenly, it was just...done.

What I do remember, though, was driving to northern Idaho for the first time.  I'll never forget driving up that windy mountain road with my mom in the passenger's seat...cresting a hill...and feeling the wind sucked from my lungs as I saw a view a lot like this (photo rights to Jean Yates):

I gasped loudly.  "What?!" My mom asked.  "Nothing".  But it hit me, and I knew.  The place I was entering was the place of my long-ago dream.

Fast forward another two years.  Luke and I had met and began dating.  For the story of the beginning of "us", click here (but finish this story first!).

We had only been dating a couple of weeks, and I knew that there was something special going on.  Heck, I knew there was something special from the first time I heard his voice and my knees betrayed me my turning to jello!  But my suspicion that this was something REALLY special came, again, in the form of a dream.

That same field.

The same me walking through the field.

The same clouds floating through the sky.

The same arm tucking me safely to his side.

The same feeling of bliss and contentment and overwhelming love.

The same golden-haired man.

But now...I look to see his face...and I see Luke smiling back at me.

I woke with a smile on my face, thinking "I knew it.  Thank you, God."

We dated for almost exactly 2 years before we took our vows before God to love and honor each other forever.  And now...impossibly...here we are.  We've been together for 15 years, and married for 13 years.  Four babies and all these years later, I'm still crazy about the incredible man that God made just for me.  The man I was made for.  There has never been a moment of doubt in my mind or heart as to whether I belong with Luke.  

Happy Anniversary, my sweet and strong (and totally hot) man!  I love you with all I am, and I'm thrilled that my future is with you.  You make me a better person.  You still make my pulse quicken and my knees turn to jello.  You make me feel safe and loved and cherished.  You in my life is my proof that God is good and that He loves me - you are my grandest and sweetest blessing.

And you...quite literally...make my every dream come true.

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The "S" Word

Oh my, friends. God has been busy at work on this little heart of mine lately! It's been a scary, painful, tear-filled journey over the past couple of months. But I'm left with a profoundly new view of this incredible Lord of my life! I have so much to share!

Instead of starting at the beginning though, I'm dying to share what He taught me just this morning. Don't you LOVE that still small voice of God? Whenever I hear it whisper it's way into my thoughts, I just know my life is about to be changed forever!

I go to a Wednesday morning Bible study each week. Our teacher is a woman named Kay, and she is a gift straight from Heaven into my life. From the moment she begins to speak, I'm carried away by her love for Jesus and the Word. Before I know it, almost 2 hours has passed, and I'm a changed woman.

This session, we're doing a "Marriage Without Regrets" study. Who am I to God as a woman, a wife, and a mom? What about my husband? How does God want our family to look and function? Fascinating...

Of course, no Biblical study on marriage would be complete without digging into the meaning and application of the "S" word (as Kay calls it) :-) Do you have an ugly "S" word in mind? You know what I'm talking about...

SUBMIT

(I know...choke...gag...roll eyes here. Are you done? Okay, I'll go on.) ;-)

I wrote a long time ago about the realization that I needed to submit (or "arrange myself under") my dear husband. It was HARD. If you want to read that post, HERE it is.

Today though, God gave me a little slice of humble pie (you know the stuff...it's tastes a tad bitter, but leaves you feeling satisfied like nothing else) regarding submission....and my attitude on the subject.

It struck me in class today how God helps me to submit in such a unique way. Let me explain...

I used to feel (embarrassingly) proud that God seemed to speak to me before he'd speak to Luke, my husband. Then, when Luke would come to me with a plan or an idea that he believed came from God, I'd secretly think something along the lines of "yeah, I know, God told me that a looooong time ago" (with an irritatingly superior voice in my mind)...all the while smiling sweetly and saying "great idea, honey!"

Ugh. Sometimes I just can't STAND myself!!

Well, today the Lord gave me a new insight. Could it be that He tells me first so that I'm in the proper mindset to encourage and willingly submit to my husband? He's giving me a glimpse of what he has in store first so that I can, in turn, honor Him and my husband by being the wife that God wants me to be.

I wonder...will the Lord always be so kind to me, or will there come a time when He stops whispering to me first and just goes straight to my husband? After years of knowing with certainty that my husband is a man of God and is seeking his face, it should be simple, right?

Hmpf. I'm reminded right now of the Israelites being led through the desert with a pillar of smoke by day and a pillar of flame by night...and yet they turned away from God.

So, I'm humbled today. God doesn't speak to me before he speaks to my husband because I'm so special...he speaks to me first because he knows I'm weak and need the extra little nod from Him!

Leave it to God to let me feel loved and precious first... and then gently brought to my knees in humility!

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I Married The Wittiest Man On Planet Earth

Okay, so I've been laughing for days now. My husband has a knack for making me smile and all-out belly laugh like no other person I've ever known. Seriously...he's clever and so darn quick he's always surprising me.

I'll tell you what's been making me laugh (if you don't think it's funny, please assume it's because the hilarity of the moment just didn't translate well onto paper and NOT that I have a cheesy sense of humor) ;-)

Here goes:

My little Clara was having a rough night a couple of nights ago. She was dragging her feet getting ready for bed, and I think both Luke and I were pretty short with her a time or two because of our frustration with her slow-poke-ed-ness.

Everyone finally had brushed teeth, washed faces, jammies on, and we had just finished prayers. Clara climbed into her bed with a sulk on her face. She was complaining and on the verge of tears about something, so I climbed into bed with her.

"Boy am I glad you have such a cozy bed. Scoot over, chica. I'm sleeping with you."

I then proceeded to squirm my way to stealing her covers and pillow - gently squishing her against the wall. Just generally being a goofy obnoxious mama to get her smiling again.

Daddy decided to play along, and began "tucking" the covers in around us.

"Oh good, I was a little chilly. Thanks for the tuck, Daddy", I said.

"I'll give ya a tuck", was his reply. And then he got silly and obnoxious too, and tucked the covers around me so tightly that I was STUCK. I could hardly move. But along the way, I got pinched a little bit.

"Owww! Hey, that hurt! What kind of tucker ARE you?!"

I looked at him and saw a spark of genius flash across his wonderful green eyes.

"I guess I'm just a bad mother tucker!"

Oh.

My.

Laughter completely took OVER my body, and I proceeded to snort and drool and cry. Clara went from being sweetly touched that I was snuggling with her to being slightly horrified by the transformation that just over-took her mommy!

Life is good with this man. Very very good.

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12 Years

This picture was taken in 1996 - we had been dating for about a year, and weren't engaged yet (based on my ringless finger).  

And here we are...13 years from the time of that photo.  We've been together for 14 years, married for 12.  Wow!

I remember when we first started dating - I simply could NOT get enough of this guy.  We were together every single waking moment...and driving my friends positively BONKERS.

A couple of my friends even did a sort of "intervention"...

Daiquiri, you're spending way too much time with him.  He's going to get sick of you.  Play more hard to get.  Please...take a bit of a break from time to time!

Ha!  They had no idea what they were asking!  This man...he made me laugh.  I felt safe with him.  I loved talking with him.  I loved being quiet with him.  I loved the rhythm of his breathing and the way that tingly feeling raced up my arm when he grabbed my hand.

He wasn't just some guy.  He was the rest of ME.  

And twelve years and four babies later....he still is.  He still makes me laugh like no other.  I still feel impossibly safe with him.  I still love our talks, our quiet times.  He knows me even better than I do some days.  

 

He still asks me from time to time, "Will you marry me?"

And my answer is always the same, "A million times over."

And I mean it.

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Dreamy

Luke was digging through some papers in the "vault" today.  It's not an actual vault - it's just the dark place under the stairs... past the Christmas decorations and 7 layers of hell known as our luggage.  It may as well be a real vault - it's just as inaccessible!  

(Why was he digging around in there, you ask?  The brokerage he's signing up with today needed a copy of his high school diploma.  Really!  Evidently the fact that he's been out of high school for almost 20!! years, has a degree in engineering, and has been working as a professional for the past 12 years doesn't count for much...they want proof of high school graduation.)

It is in that deep dark hole that we keep the dusty boxes labeled "Memorabilia".  Oh my, the horrors those boxes hold!  There's the diary I kept as a 3rd grader.  There's my Presidential Scholar award.  There's even a plaster casting of my teeth before braces.  If that doesn't give you nightmares, you're worlds stronger than I!  

Hubby has lots of goodies in there too.  Piles of sports pictures and news clippings (quite the sports stud he was).  In fact, he found piles of pictures of both of us.  And in that pile, he found these:

Our senior photos.  Look at those kids!  We joke all the time about how we wouldn't be together if we had known each other as kids.  He maintains that he was too much of a jerk (I find that impossible to believe).  

I maintain that anyone who knew me in my junior high years would forever be scarred by the images my ugly mug burned into their retinas.  Seriously.  U.G.L.Y!  I got over my braces, purple eye shadow, acne, and really bad clothes and turned out...mostly normal.  Average, I'd say.  But still - if you'd been there during the ugly phase?  You'd never see me as normal.

And my Luke...a jerk?  I just don't see it. And even if he was a jerk - it probably would have made me want him more.  That square jaw.  Those dimples.  Those biceps.  Those broad shoulders.  That....ahem, nevermindImnotthinkingboutthatyoushouldntbeeitherwhyamIblushing.  

And a bit of arrogance on top.  Irresistible to foolish young girls.  Especially me!  Oh boy.  My poor parents.

I look at those photos and can't help but wonder what's in store for our kids.  Dimples.  Light eyes.  Sandy hair....lots and lots of it!  At least until they turn 30 something and realize that they now have brown/grey hair (and for the boys much more forehead ;) ).

Stay tuned.  Luke and I are going to tell the story of how we met, fell in love, and got married.  (I'm just trying to come up with an appropriate bribe to get his participation)  I'm envisioning a co-blogging type of format - he'll tell his side of the story and I'll tell mine.  

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A Newly Discovered Male Condition: Mall Legs

My husband is a saint. I could go on and on about all that he does around the house and with the kids and for me...how handsome and kind and sweet he his...what a hard worker, great friend, brother and son he is. But there's really just one thing that I need to say, and it is perfectly sufficient in describing how amazing this man of mine is. That one thing? It's this: HE LIVES WITH ME.

Those of you who only know me via this blog might be thinking, "you can't be that tough to live with." But that's my fault - I try really hard to be as real as possible, but more often than not, I think you get my best side.

Those of you who know me in person are probably simply grinning and thinking something like "Um, yeah. He's a saint alright!"

The only reason I started this post with thoughts on the wonderfulness of my dear man is that I want it to be clear that he's not a complainer or a whiner (except for the occasional times when he has a man cold). He not only puts up with the daily grind of being married to me and being the father of 4 young rambunctious kids...he does so with a sincere smile and a peace about him that can only be described as a gift from the Lord Himself!

OK.

Now that I've laid the groundwork, you will be able to see just how serious and out of the ordinary his "condition" is. His problem? Around here we call it "Mall Legs".

Maybe you have a man in your life with this condition? Here's how you can identify a man suffering with this debilitating problem:

1. At the mere uttering of the words "Maybe we should go to the mall" or "I'll bet we could find that at the mall", you can notice (if you're watching carefully) a slight bead of perspiration on his brow, dilated pupils, and the wide-eyed look of an animal caught in a trap. Although we haven't tested it, I'm certain that if he were hooked to a monitor, you'd also notice a drastic increase in his heart rate and blood pressure.

2. Once he realizes that his near future involves a trip to the dreaded mall, said patient will begin to plan. This will be a marked change in behavior for some men. Those men who are more typically "take things as they come" kind of guys will suddenly and almost instantly develop a detailed plan of attack that will get them in and out of the mall as soon as humanly possible. Case in point: as we ate our lunch in the mall's food court yesterday our conversation went something like this-

Hubby: "So which store do you think would have the shoes?"

Me: "I don't know. We're at the mall! Let's just shop around. There seem to be quite a few sales on right now, maybe we could find a deal. And maybe we could grab a treat and sit and watch people for a while (one of my favorite mall activities)."

(Hubby looks at me with mouth hanging open, an incredulous look on his face.)

Hubby: "No. That's not the way this works. We sit here, we make a plan, we go there, we buy the shoes, we get out. That's how this mall trip works. Clear?"

3. A nearly debilitating weakness in the patient's legs as he takes his first physical steps into the shopping mall (hence the name "mall legs"). His usual energetic and sure step is replaced with feet that can almost not leave the ground. He will be slightly winded at the sheer effort of moving his feet.

4. An unspoken camaraderie with other men at the mall. As they carry their wives' purses and sit on the benches surrounded by their wives' packages, they look at each other. To the uneducated eye, those glances appear to be a simple "Hi there" type of look.

But if you know that your man is suffering from Mall Legs, you can be certain that there are volumes being spoken in those stolen glances with fellow sufferers. Those looks say things like "I KNOW, I can't seem to escape either. I've tried everything.", and "I thought I was a good man during my life. I know the Lord, even. I don't understand how I've died and ended up in the pit of H*LL.", and "Can you help me? I've been trying to work up the nerve to pull the nearest fire alarm, but just can't seem to make my legs walk me over to that little red box. Quick! Before you sit down and can't get back up...go pull the alarm and we can all get out of here!"

5. Any comment like the one my dear husband made yesterday during lunch: "Man, I can remember the last time we were at the mall eating lunch. I remember it was a Sunday, and the Packers were playing. The kids were all wearing their Packer sweatshirts and we ran into one of my co-workers here. That was a good year ago! We haven't been to the mall in a year. (deep sigh) It was a good year." Seriously ladies...can your husband remember what the kids were wearing yesterday? I'll bet mine can't (I can't either for that matter). But he can remember details like that about his last mall trip...a sure sign of deep and lasting trauma.

Living with Mall Legs:

So what do we do? It's simple...have mercy. This is a real and physical condition that can not be helped. Do all you can to help your man avoid the mall. Even if it means dragging the kids to the mall (gasp!) by yourself, it will be less painful for you than it would be for him if you insist that he comes with you. The only reason my hubby had to come to the mall yesterday was that we were shoe shopping...for HIM. I couldn't pull that off without him, so he was stuck.

And if you feel you must have him at the mall with you, go easy on him. Keep in mind that it's a physical endurance test for him, so try to keep the trip short. If you see your man fading to the point of needing medical assistance to make it back out to the car, you might want to plan a mid-trip swing by Sears' tool department (or the electronics store, whatever floats his boat). This will usually perk him up to the point of being able to make it through the rest of the trip.

Do you feel frustrated by his inability to shop the mall like you do? Try to remember his good qualities...all the reasons you married him. And remember too that the mall is made for women, so leave hubby home and bring a girlfriend if you want to shop for a new purse.

That concludes this long-winded public service announcement. Happy shopping!

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Checking Out For The Weekend

Well, Happy Birthday to ME!

Hubby surprised me with the most incredible gift tonight...an itinerary for our long weekend somewhere warm, sandy, and with great Italian food! My sister and her husband are coming to stay at our house with our kids, and we're takin' off...like real, live grown-ups :)

I can't remember a getaway that lasted more than a few hours for just the two of us since...wow...since before Ben was born, I think. That's 7 years! We're long overdue.

Needless to say, I will not be blogging for the next few days. I love y'all, but a girl's gotta have her priorities. And this weekend? The sand between my toes and the most wonderful, thoughtful, kind, and (ahem) smokin' HOT man on earth will be mine. Priority, that is.

Why am I blushing...I'm a married woman, so leave me alone!

I'll be back Monday. Have a great weekend everyone.

PS. What's wrong with me? I'm dying for this trip, yet I'm so freaked out to leave my kids!

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Memory Lane: Our Wedding Day

August 23, 1997 was our wedding day. Eleven years and four babies later I'm still happy to be married to this man. I'm a lucky girl.

The day before our wedding, we did the rehearsal dinner at a lakeside supper club in Wisconsin. (We live in Idaho, but married in Wisconsin so we could have as much extended family there as possible). Here we are in all our cheesy glory outside the supper club before we ate dinner...supper...whatever they call it in the Midwest! Aren't we so sweet you could just gag?!



With my hubby involved, things never stay serious for long though. This is more our style. He better marry me soon or people are gonna start talkin'!



Our wedding day was perfect. It was hot and humid and stressful and busy...but perfect. I loved our wedding. It was so beautiful and emotional. Everyone we loved was there to celebrate with us, and it felt so *right* to be standing before God and promising to be true to the amazing man He'd given me.

I grew up Catholic...sometimes I love the ceremony that goes with the Catholic church. We're not Catholic anymore, and I miss some of the tradition and ritual. Our wedding in this beautiful Catholic church with tall stained glass windows was so precious to me.



Here we are Mr. and Mrs. Dear Hubby! One of my happiest moments ever :)



Here's us coming out of the church after we finally got my dress all bustled up. Man, that dress was heavy...but so beautiful! The little guy holding the door for us was our ring bearer. He's about 6'6" now!



The ceremony was over, but it wasn't quite time to go to the club for the reception, so we went to my folks' house to start celebrating. Our families...they know how to party!




Wasn't our cake beautiful? Maybe you can't see it very well in the picture. Believe me, it was beautiful (and yummy!).


If you're reading this, my amazing man...I love you! I'm so happy, blessed, thankful, joyful, and proud to be Mrs. YOU! :) Happy Anniversary.

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Parenting Like The Ultimate Father

This week's topic is, in a word, Parenting. How have your Christian beliefs affected your parenting? Or, if you don't have children, talk about God as "Father" in your life. I'll just jump right in...

Every now and then a friend says something that really sticks with me and makes me see the world differently. I had one of those moments recently. She said, "I'm not raising children, I'm raising adults."

Isn't that a great way to think of it? Sometimes I get so caught up in the daily struggle that is children and all of their crazy, messy, unpredictable ways, that I forget to keep my eye on the end goal. The end goal is adults. God loving, God fearing, Men and Women. Wow. That's a huge responsibility!

With that goal in mind, I've been thinking a lot lately about how God parents us and how his ways can be applied to my human parent-child relationship. In fact, hubby and I took a class about 4 years ago called "Parenting Is A Ministry". I can't remember all that we discussed (should have taken better notes!), but there are a few points that we implemented and that changed our relationship with our children (or very, very young adults!).

1. God makes his "rules" very clear. There's no guesswork. In fact, he wrote everything on paper (and stone) for us.
2. God is faithful...otherwise known as very predictable and consistent. When he says he'll do something, it gets done.
3. God is loving. He takes joy in us. He shelters us. He comforts us. Even in his discipline, he is loving above all.
4. God is the boss. He gets to make the rules, and he gets to choose the manner of discipline.
5. God treats us with respect. Sure, he makes rules and he disciplines. But he lets us make our choices (and live with the results). He respects us as individuals and does not force himself or his love on us. He doesn't come into our lives until we invite him in.

So how can we apply these same principles as parents?

1. In our family, we took #1 very literally. We wrote our family rules on paper, discussed and explained each rule to the kids...and we also wrote the appropriate disciplines for each rule should it be broken. I think this step was so important for our kids and for us. As parents, we have a game plan ALL of the time. The kids know what's expected of them, and they know what the outcome will be should they choose to break a rule. It's amazingly peaceful to have all of this literally written down.

2. We do our very best to be ultra consistent. Again, it brings peace to our children (and us) for them to know what's expected. If we're not consistent, then they have to live under a cloud of uncertainty and fear.

3. The reason for all this rule making and discipline is our love for our children. We're trying to "raise our children in the way they should go". We do lots of talking and explaining and discussing to help our kids know how to make good choices. And when we do have to discipline, we stick to the plan (from #1) and we do lots of hugs and kisses after their discipline. And by the way, we're not all rules and discipline around here! The VAST majority of our time is spent just enjoying each other as a family and doing fun and silly stuff :)

4. Daddy is the boss around here. We've tried to make it clear through example and discussion that Mommy and Daddy are partners...a team...but that Daddy is ultimately the "boss". We also let the kids know that the Lord is Daddy's "boss". The kids get a kick out of that :)

5. We make it a point to treat our children with respect. What does this look like in practical terms? We give them privacy when they want it, we say "please" and "thank you" all of the time, and we express our appreciation of them and their good choices (not just as a "positive discipline" tactic, but as a genuine show of respect). When hubby or I mess up, we apologize to the offended party and ask for forgiveness. And we give them choices. Sometimes they don't like the choices presented to them...but they get to choose none the less :) We truly love and respect our children as unique individuals, and try to treat them in a way that shows it.

We're not perfect parents, by any stretch. As I indicated, we mess up...plenty! But at the end of the day, I hope even our moments of weakness will teach our children valuable lessons. I hope they learn what it means to be a responsible, loving, compassionate child of our Almighty God. After all, that's what we're trying to teach them to be...not good kids, but great adults.

How about you? How has God helped you to be a better parent?

Seek The Lord Sunday Participants

1. Home with Amy 2. Andrea\'s Life

3. Everyday Becky 4. Kimberly

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STLS: Christianity & Marriage

This week's topic for Seek The Lord Sunday is:

Tell us about how following Christ has had an impact on your marriage.

I hesitated to make this a topic because I didn't want to leave single folks out of the fun. If the topic of marriage doesn't apply to your life right now, please share how being a Christian has had an impact on another relationship in you life.

The verse that comes to my mind when talking about Christians and marriage is probably the same verse that comes to mind for lots of people:

Submit to one another out of reverence for Christ. Wives, submit to your husbands as to the Lord. For the husband is the head of the wife as Christ is the head of the church, his body, of which he is the Savior. Now as the church submits to Christ, so also wives should submit to their husbands in everything. Husbands, love your wives, just as Christ loved the church and gave himself up for her. Ephesians 5:21-25

To be perfectly honest, these verses rubbed me the wrong way for many years. I've always been a pretty independent gal...I can do anything myself and don't need a man's help...where's my bra? It needs to be burned!

I loved my husband. I respected my husband. I adored my husband. I supported my husband and his dreams. But submit to him? I don't think so. We're equal partners here...a team. No one submits to anyone! And what do you mean my husband is the head of me? I have my own head, and it contains my very own capable brains, thank-you-very-much!

It's interesting to note that these rebellious and/or independent attitudes are the same attitudes I had toward God too. This is my life. Let me live it. I'll accept you...at least the parts that "work for me".

Ahh, I wouldn't go back there for all the money in the world! Being so bull headed and "independent" was an incredible, exhausting amount of WORK. When I finally submitted myself to God and His ideas about who I am and who my husband is...there was such peace in that! God made us, after all. It seems obvious (at least now) that He would know best how we "fit" as a family with one another.

Okay, so I've submitted to God. It took a bit longer for me to accept the idea of submitting to my husband. Don't get me wrong. My husband is an amazing man...THE most amazing man I've ever known, in fact. But he's still a man. He's not perfect. And I still didn't like the idea of submitting to anyone but God Almighty.

But one day I felt called to this role of submission. I didn't like it one bit! It didn't make sense to me that God would make me a strong woman only to have me submit to someone else for the rest of my life. But I decided to do it anyway. It took a deliberate choice on my part. I chose to submit to my husband out of reverence for Christ. There are times when I don't want to submit for my husband's sake...so I do it for Jesus' sake. I do it because Jesus is worthy of my submission and He asks me to submit to my husband.

Whew...that was a tough pill for me to swallow!

What does submission look like in practical terms? For us, it meant that we still talk through everything like we always have. We still make decisions together. We are still a team. There are times when we disagree, but one person feels much stronger about their position, so we usually go with their way of things. But when it comes down to a disagreement that we just can't come to a resolution on...that's when hubby gets his way. For me, submission to my husband also means that I pray LOTS more for him. I pray for God's guidance and wisdom.

And do you know what happened when I made the deliberate choice to submit to my husband? A miracle, that's what. When I began to treat my husband with the respect that God says is due him...he grew. He was a great guy to start with, but with God at work in our marriage, my husband became a great Man of God. He became a stronger man. He thrived on my respect and submission. He felt his God given responsibility of being the head of our household, and he lived up to that responsibility.

And I grew too. Since I no longer felt the need to be the one calling all the shots and since my husband was stepping into his role as head of our family, I could focus on the roles that God DID call me to. It was so liberating and joyful and peaceful! I'm so thankful to God for all the work He's done in our marriage and for my amazing husband.

Now it's your turn...share how Jesus has worked in your relationship. I'm looking forward to reading all about it!

Seek The Lord Sunday Participants

1. Kimberly

2. Becky

3. Lisa

Learn more about Seek The Lord Sunday here.

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I Guess It's Goodbye...

Thomas and I are off to Wisconsin tomorrow morning. My alarm is set for (gulp) 4:30 AM. Gag.

I hate saying goodbye to my kids. Why am I so afraid when I have to fly without them? Hubby and I were talking about how I don't think twice about running to the store, when there is a far greater chance of me dying on the way to the store than there is of me dying in a plane crash. Heck, there's a greater chance that I'd fall and hit my head and die at the store! There's a greater chance that I'd be shot to death at the store!

In fact, do you know how many Americans died in commercial plane crashes last year? Zero.

And did you know that there is a greater chance that you will die in an ox-powered cart crash, than in a plane crash? Yes, an ox. A big, hairy animal...pulling a cart. More dangerous than tons of steel flying through the air.

You'd think that I'd feel safe since I know how flying works. I studied engineering in school...I get the mechanics of how they get the thing in the air. I can see why it's so safe.

But when it's me or someone I love? When it involves my children being without their one and only Mommy? Scares me to death.

In fact...you're going to think I'm crazy...but I actually wrote half a post titled "Well, I guess I'm dead!" It was a big long love letter to my family...I just kept getting choked up and decided I was making myself sick for nothing, so I deleted it (I was going to schedule it to publish several days after my return...if I made it home, I'd delete it...if I didn't...well, you get it).

I told hubby about it. Then I went on and on about how much I love him and the kids, and how he's a great daddy, and how even if something happened to me that he should try to find love in his life, and tell the kids every day how much Mommy loved and adored them. I also told him that I know he'd do a great job of taking care of them if I were gone.

He rolled his eyes at me...and then with a teasing twinkle in his eye he said, "It'd be alright. I've never really loved you anyway." I proceeded to punch him. Hard. With knuckles. And giggles. He always gets me to giggle. It's one of the reasons I love him so much. The punk.

So, I'm off! If you think of it, pray for me and for my family while I'm away. Cuz, you know, I hold the whole place together when I'm home (insert chuckle and more eye rolling from hubby here).

I'm all ready for Seek The Lord Sunday, so I'll see you then :)

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One Merciful God, One Lunatic, & One Very Wise Man

Well, we made it home last night! Technically, it was this morning that we made it home...but we slept in our own beds for at least part of the night, so I'm calling it making it home last night.

By the time we got to the Milwaukee airport, our flight was already so delayed that we could see that we'd miss our connecting flight in Chicago. Imagine my surprise...you all know how I love the Chicago airport! I was tickled when we were actually switched to a different airline, and re-routed to fly through Minneapolis instead of Chicago. Thank you, Lord! Even if the worst happened, I'd rather be sleeping in the Minneapolis airport than the Chicago.

Time was tight though, so we had to hustle through security. Have you ever tried hustling through security? With four kids? How about when you're "randomly chosen" to have advanced screening done? Yes...it was lovely. My 5 year old daughter actually got patted down. I was gritting me teeth the whole time (more on that later). They went to pat Samantha down, but she ran away screaming "No! Daddy!" Thankfully, they didn't force her. She's been known to carry bombs in her pants, but not of the type they'd be interested in.

It was also extra special to watch a young man open every single pocket and pouch and nook and cranny of my carry-on bag. He looked through every crevice of my wallet. He felt and squished every spare diaper to feel for...I don't know...weapons? And the best part? When he found THE small purse within my carry-on. It holds my...ah hem...feminine hygiene products in the event of an emergency. Girls, you know what I mean. He pulled them all out. He felt each one. He then, oh so delicately, with his man hands, tried to shove everything back into place.

"Attention travelers! Please... someone left something very important back at the security checkpoint. It appears to be a woman's last remaining shred of dignity. Please return and do the chicken dance in your undies if you'd like to claim it."

Hey, it could be worse. At least I wasn't this gal.

So on we went to our gate, where they stopped us and told us that the booster seats we'd schlepped through the airport could not go on the plane. To their credit, the darn things say right on them that they're not FAA approved. I didn't know...it was especially confusing and frustrating since we'd brought them on planes before with no problems. It was at this point that I did more gritting of teeth. I actually turned away, bit down into a blanket of Thomas' I was carrying...but held my tongue. Oh, what a proud moment. I'm not usually much of a tongue holder. See me? I'm so mature.

After that, our flight went smoothly. We went on to Minneapolis without a hitch.

Our layover was long enough that we were able to get a bite to eat and let the kids run and play for a while. It was nice. We got the kiddos all jammied up before the next flight, got settled in...and waited for over an hour for them to make a seat belt repair. More gritting of teeth. Finally...we were on our way. Only 3 more hours until we touch down in Boise! And get our bags! And get a cab! And drive home! Only...!

We finally got home at about 2 AM. See? God answered my prayers. We were home. We were safe. It was...um...an adventure...but all things considered, we really couldn't complain. God is good. God is Merciful.

So the lunatic? If you haven't figured it out already...that would be me. I've been a hormonal mess the past couple of days. Was I like this before having babies? No, really....Hubby, I don't actually want you to answer.

Before we left Wisconsin, I stopped by the store to get a bottle of "bitchy pills". I believe the stuff is called "Pamprin" (what a terrible name). I gave them a little shake, and showed them to my Hubby. "Hey look! They actually make bitchy pills! I bought some, maybe they'll work. It actually says right on the bottle: 'for irritability'. Isn't that great?!"

Hubby looked at me. He opened his mouth and shut it again several times with no sounds coming out. He concluded by saying "I am SO going to keep my mouth shut", and he walked out of the room leaving me shaking my bottle of Pamprin.

Now that, ladies and gentleman, is my husband. He is a VERY. WISE. MAN.

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The Language Of Love

As you know, my Mom is in town for a visit this week. She's been working hard at spoiling all of us. I got to sneak back to bed yesterday morning after a really rough night with Thomas. And Samantha has her tongue-tied with all the books they've been reading...no less than 20 just yesterday! And the big kids...coloring, reading, swing pushing, walking, etc. And Thomas. Well, that kid just can hardly tolerate being put down, and he weighs almost 18 pounds...quite the little back-breaker, he is. I'm not even going to talk about the dishes and shopping and laundry and vacuuming she's been doing. Yes...I make her earn her keep when she visits ;)

I'm afraid mom will never come back if the work load doesn't lighten up a bit!

I was tucking my kids into bed last night, and I was asking them about their day. I always ask, "Did you have a nice day?", "What was your favorite part?", and "What was your least favorite part?" Benjamin took me by surprise with his answers last night.

Yes, he had a good day.

And his favorite part? "Getting a big scratch on my arm"

"No, I said you favorite part, not your least favorite."

"I know! Getting a scratch was my favorite."

"What?! Why? Didn't it hurt?"

"Well, yeah. But then Grandma helped me. She kissed me and hugged me and said I could have a band-aid. And then she said I did a really great job of putting the band-aid on."

"So you liked getting hurt, just so Grandma could help you?"

"Yeah. Grandma could have just said 'oh, it's just a scratch, you're fine'. But she helped me instead. That's how she loved me - by taking good care of me. Grandma loved me - that's all."

Well...I was pretty much out of words after that exchange with my little 6 year old man!

But he got me thinking. He had never articulated so clearly before just what makes him feel loved. I tell my kids all the time...I mean ALL. THE. TIME. that I love them. But it sounds like my little Ben speaks a different "love language".

I know...the "love language" thing has been done already. Honestly, I haven't read any of the books on the subject yet. As I understand it though, the general idea is that we all feel the most loved when someone shows their love for us in our "primary love language".

There are five. Here they are:
1. Words of Affirmation
2. Quality Time
3. Receiving of Gifts
4. Acts of Service
5. Physical Touch

What is your primary love language? You can click HERE to take a quick quiz and find out. It might be fun to have your kids or spouse take the quiz too and compare notes with them.

Good thing for my Hubby and our budget...I scored the lowest on Gifts. But hey...if he ever gets sick of emptying the dishwasher or giving me foot rubs...diamonds are always good.

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He Actually Reads This Stuff!

I just learned that my husband reads all of my posts! I figured he would have had enough of my ramblings by now. I guess not!

He says he likes to find out what's going on in my head in small, understandable chunks, on his schedule, and without having to actually talk to me. He was kidding...I think?! No really...he was kidding, I'm sure of it...I think.

Actually - he told me how I could explain it. He says he doesn't have time to talk to me because he's too busy doing housework. Now THAT...that I'm sure he's kidding about!

For those of you who know my husband, you know that I'm joking. Yes, he does read my posts...and yes, this is news to me. But my dear sweet man...well, he makes other husbands just plain look BAD (are you blushing yet, hubby?). He's tall, handsome, a great daddy, and a hard worker. He's also creative, funny, sweet, considerate, and very thoughtful. He listens to me ramble even when it involves me (gasp!) crying OR talking to him during a game. And on top of all that, he really does do lots of housework. He's great in lots of other ways too, but I'll stop now because I'm sure I've embarrassed him enough...

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