Creating a Home Together

Creating a Home Together

"Many human relationships are like the interlocking fingers of two hands. Our loneliness makes us cling to each other, and this mutual clinging makes us suffer immensely because it does not take our loneliness away. But the harder we try, the more desperate we become. Many of these "interlocking" relationships fall apart because they become suffocating and oppressive. Human relationships are meant to be like two hands folded together. They can move away from each other while still touching with the fingertips. They can create space between themselves, a little tent, a home, a safe place to be.

True relationships among people point to God. They are like prayers in the world. Sometimes the hands that pray are fully touching, sometimes there is distance between them. They always move to and from each other, but they never lose touch. They keep praying to the One who brought them together."

The above was written by Henri Nouwen -- how true, how true. I confess being interlocked destructively in the past; it's quite difficult, even as a God-following person, even when wandering away, even when you're just coping with the world at large to not want to cling, especially when you've found a person (or people groups) with whom you are compatible. However, yesterday I was truly thinking about how my husband has become my best friend. We laughed at church; we laughed at my son's soccer game at our jokes; we've truly advanced to that stage where, even with girlfriends, my husband is my true and constant, and yes even fun!, friend. I admit that in many stages of our lives that wasn't the case. God truly had to push us closer to one another. The final big push came about four years ago -- it was a painful push, off a cliff of feeble constructs, but, at the bottom, we clung to one another. I'm grateful for that time. God does care about how we love those closest to us -- he wants us to be safe and cared for; he wants to teach us how to love well back. We mirror him the most in this capacity. True relationships, as Henri says, truly do point to God.  Amen.

Dave Ramsey, one

My husband and I went to Dave Ramsey's Financial Peace University at our church last night. We couldn't find a heckling place in the rear so we sat on the front row. I watched my husband as he doubted some of the financial information given. I wanted to be an admirable, knowledgeable rebel like him; however, my ignorance kept me silent. We weren't sure why we were there since my husband is trained in sound financial principles and practices them. He said that the information would be so basic for him that it would be like teaching me, an English teacher, how to spell cat. During Ramsey's videotaped presentation, though, we caught each other laughing at his jokes and agreeing to his general principles. When Ramsey said that most families don't talk about money, we looked at each other and snickered -- my husband's family would tell you how much their spit cost if they could put a price tag on it. Then, they would only spit half as much to save a dime or two. Money is a focus and a fixation. It's a hobby. All chat and all deep conversations trickle back to the comforting sounds of cha-ching.

We split up into small groups, and like an addiction meeting, we said our names and why we were there. I said I was an ignorant English major. My husband said he was there to support me and to represent the Evil Industry (banking). That latter admittance commanded respect and people began asking questions of him. Our group leader, a longtime friend, asked him questions too. He even got to use his cute little sense of humor on the group.

Next week, I can't attend since I will be at a conference. But, my husband said that he thinks he will attend without me afterall despite an earlier declaration to stay home.

:)

20 Year Marriage

I know the above photos aren't the typical anniversary shots. But, they are often the typical marriage photos. We are separated looking off into the distance here, wondering how to relate to one another, wondering if we've met each other's expectations, wondering how we're going to spend the next 20 years together. And, these thoughts occurred even in a tropical paradise where we intentionally went for love.

And, we did love, even during the times of the above questions. When a couple drops all their daily duties with kids, work, routine, and they begin to spend down time together; they eat meals together which they don't in the day to day; they listen and attempt to talk to one another; they try to "be" with one another, confusion and despair happens alongside the celebratory, romantic, and friendship moments.

We had both. We had to talk to clear away the confusion and despair. We had to reaffirm our love and commitment to one another. We had to believe individually that we are capable of such love (with God's help). We had to re-establish and laugh. We had to toast each other in complete gratitude for accepting warts and all. We had to walk away hand in hand again ready for the years ahead.

I'm extremely grateful for such a man and friend in my life. And, here, after 20 years together, is the typical anniversary photo -- a couple connected by grace, choice, fight, and commitment.

Respite received

Our Europe trip was amazing. I have multiple photos of Kevin and me snuggling up like we're Siamese twins on the Alps, on the Tower, in front of Verona's arena. I cried due to God's tender care at Chamonix, France. The village at the foot of Mont Blanc spilled over with God's beauty and care and I felt like the BigHeartedSpirit was granting us Respite. Tender respite with beautiful flowers, a silver creek, a fairy-tale village, a glaciered peak to soothe our souls and to thank us for all efforts spent on parenting, marriage, faith-holding. I cried at His generous insistence. It was a designed place for us to rest and beauty-gape and recognize the trails of His majestic kindness.

To be smooching on the Eiffel Tower or to not be

It begins in the throat:sandpaper. Then the shoulders try to shrug but the sinews feel butter-coated, sloshed. Then the nose tries to enlist like a nasty conformist weakling, and, suddenly, one has an active crawling bug on the week of her trip to Europe.


However, it hasn't overtaken me. I'm drinking Airborne water, popping JuicePlus pills, swallowing zinc and C's. I will overcome and will not even kiss my sweetie to give it to him (he needs to be in good form since romance demands so).


Yet one must think . . . will we be spared from something if we get left behind? Hmmm . . . to be sick or not to be sick, that is the question. I'll do my part to be healthy unless some other force whacks me on my back.

Life's musings, death notices

My third post in one day. I must truly be procrastinating my grammar decisions and my 9th grade fiction decisions, although grammar will be more innovative than imagined, and multi-tiered for the parents who desire the advanced treatment and for those who rebel and accept the basic package. A car wash approach. But, now, I want the 9th graders to hone their short story writing skills (the 2nd annual writing competition) and read The Hobbit and the obligatory Lord of the Flies all in the fall semester. And with three school days a week, time runs out quickly. Despair! I can't assign layers upon layers upon heads. Dismay!


On the Personal Front:


1. Kevin and I leave for France on Thursday.
2. I can't wait to smooch him on the Eiffel Tower.
3. Cody is going to the school where I teach.
4. I am scared to death for his success.
5. My purple phox is all a-lit outside my window.
6. I'm supposed to be planning for my course instead of blogging.
7. I ate three granola bars in a row.
8. I'm reading the book called "The Book Thief."
9. My husband just knocked on the glass door and told me a neighbor's husband just died; the husband in the house right beside them died about a month ago. I hope this isn't making its way down the street.




Au revoir!

Sixteen Years Worth

Here we are at an event; we're a couple. I've received his hugs for sixteen marital years now. He likes to do this, grab at me, while my hands are customarily crossed against the cold. He wants to warm me and show affection and be sturdy for me. He's sturdy, steady, steadfast to my whimsical, wandering, wayward nature. To boot, he's kind and loving and reliable; and, a farm kid himself from the cornfields with a nature for the right and good. I don't know how God arranged for us to become a couple as seen above, but he definitely knew how to take care of me through his choice. And, yes, at times, I wonder about his choice, particularly when grabbed and poked and teased and tormented by my hubby who thinks this is funny. And, I wonder when our interests differ widely; however, I couldn't have done a better job at choosing who would make my life more complete and secure. I am blessed by His choice for me. Grateful!

Rain-splashed

Faith is such a crazy thing! Why is it? Or, do I undoubtedly make it crazy with my own offbalance? It could be a peaceful calm lake phenomena, but then the fish and turtles and snakes do lurk beneath, don't they? I guess that 'crazy' faith is just the human experience of it if one attempts to understand, commit, explain, impart its dimensions. Who can filter God? Tame the Spirit? Know and interpret all? No one. We have clues, messages, yes, yes, but even those are nebulous.

However, the morning called me to clearly respond to God due to some inner conflicts. It's crazy when faith seems muddy, happenchance, tilted, yet at times the response needs to be completely forthright as if one is faced with the most sensory (yet comfortable) Thing possible. God asking something of one, me, due to my straightforward human-woman need that needs his intervention.

So out the door into the rain-splashed morning I went anticipating. Running shoes, old paint-dropped sweats, New Orleans T-shirt, pony-tail, hat were acceptable worship material. I followed the old trail, around the lake estates where the geese fly, across the busy road where the morning commuters fly, to a street where it's happened before necessarily. I remember that time God told me to let go of a huge globe of fear and to recommit: from toes to hair, from bones to heart, bit by bit, both to Belief and to husband and to self and to others. It felt good again to release and reorient.

I walked back into the house doubting still, but yet knowingly committed, despite any where my adventurous mind takes me, or any where my body goes. I am committed and that's the clarity that is essential.

Chirp-a-Roar-oo!

I know ... another tribute to a sports tribe, another yelp, another hoot, another chirp. But, I can't help myself .... we're so proud of the Missouri Tiger football team!! Part of my non-blogging activities involved wringing my hands on the couch on game day, or sitting with hubby on the hill (as pictured), or checking polls and stories online at ESPN, or sitting in the stands with my daughter with our old familiar chat n' laugh and cheer. The season was astounding -- we're not used to it here; therefore, giddiness is deserved. We ended the season being # four in the country. Wahoo! Yelp! Hoot! Chirp!

That was last week, prior to the ice and snowfall again here in Missouri. It was an interesting trip. It was miraculous to be on the beach in the warmth. It was intriguing to walk along the Playa del Carmen avenue with the calling vendors and the Canadians and Europeans and South Americans, everyone babbling their languages. It was enlightening and sad to see the poverty in the Mexican countryside. It was interesting to see the ancient ruins and to contemplate the Mayan spiritual expression through temples, writings, sacrifices, attention. The spiritual consciousness being universal. I wondered if a Mayan woman wished that there were no rites, no consciousness to abide by, more freedom for the spirit. Did she think that way? Did she walk on the same path I stood on, wondering similar things? She probably worried for her children. She probably cared about her relations with others. She knew she was getting older.

As we were flying over Louisville, KY, on the return trip, I looked down and the city was beautiful, sparkly; the curvaceous Ohio river outlined the lights, the markers of abundance. We landed in St. Louis and the smell was good; the water could be chugged without severity (as we experienced down South). We took our tan skin into the freezing long term parking lot and reunited with our auto. We drove home, and I wondered if the futile quest for perfection would resume again in our daily lives.
But, for a little while, my 15 year commited husband and I were able to break from it, and to enjoy one another apart from it. That was essential and good.