Elijah Moments

God is good...at deflating the air out of my spiritual balloon.

I have learned that in the last four months, these beginning moments of 2013. All the time I thought I had my plans and opinions, He was demonstrating the spread of His great intentions into the lives and environments in a nondescript region. There is no place on this earth His Kingdom cannot reach; a community that looks like it is dead to growth and faith always has a remnant of people that believe.

And I have met them...and I have met the purposes of God for the children, families, and community that appeared to have missed their moment.

St. Clair County Michigan has one of the highest rates of unemployment in the state. Statistics say that the community has high poverty rates and this may be one of the contributing factors to substance abuse, domestic violence, child abuse and neglect, and any number of societal ills that make it a difficult place to live and thrive.  But as I have had the privilege to learn many times in my life, that is a ripe opportunity for God to show Himself strong on behalf of those that believe in Him.

And I have met these people.  I am not the only one.  I am not the only one that believes God can heal  children, families, communities, cities, nations, this world.  And in the mindset of Elijah in 1Kings 19, I honestly thought I was all alone.

I've met these ones hidden in plain sight, infiltrating the hard places.  They live in the neighborhoods. They work and live and thrive in the places where the statisticians must have overlooked.  God has blessed them and then placed Kingdom ministry in their hearts.  These ones are opening hearts, lives, doors, homes to reach the brokenhearted, the abandoned, the abused, the neglected, the orphans, the widows.

And I have cried more than once at the awesome power of God, working right under the nose of the enemy of our souls - under the nose of the one whom has tried to bring the doomsday predictions to life in this region where I have been placed to make a difference.  I am awestruck and wonder struck. I have realized not only the error of my ways - believing that a city is not worth saving (like Jonah believed about Nineveh) - but the beautiful ways of redemption at work.

The Elijah Moments I have had in the last few months has taught me much about how the plans of God are never interrupted by circumstances.  He is not in the business of depending wholly on one person to save a city; He is the Great All in All and the Great I Am.  He works through relationship with others that take Him at His Word and dare to believe that they have purpose within that relationship.  Their purpose is fully wrapped up inside His.  So God forbid we think that we are ever the "only ones".

I stand corrected...and I stand amazed...

Change of Habit

Seven years ago, I developed a great habit of running away.

It was a wonderful feeling to be escaping in my car toward time with God and writing just as Spring time was erupting over the gray horizon of Winter with it's cold and apparent inconsiderate snow and ice and wind.  I would pack for a few days and go one of two places that I lived the whole preceding year for.  Some years I would go to both places, feeling doubly blessed.

The first escape was to the Calvin College Festival of Faith and Writing held bi-annually on the school's beautiful campus in Grand Rapids.  For three days, I would be surrounded by writers and artists and readers...loving the atmosphere and feeling entirely happy being with so many word-lovers and bookworms.  The first time I went in 2004 I thought I was in Heaven on earth - the very best place I could be.

The second mode of escapism was to the Revolution Christian Ministries' Annual Retreat, re-named every year to signify the spiritual season that the time of worship and praise of God, teaching, and fellowship away from the distractions, craziness, and monotony of life represented.  I longed for that environment all year long.

Those events have been my habits...my good and nurturing habits that feed the writer and worshipper of God that I strive to be, that truly I have always been.

But this year...so much has changed...and these habits have followed suit.  My new life as a married woman has been a new blessing and joy.  The life I had before definitely led to this moment - those times of attending a Book Festival and a Church Retreat led to this.

But, I didn't bargain for how some things change that you really don't want to.

The Festival is next year....no escape this year.

The Retreat is for members of the Church I called home until this year, when I had to find a new Church to attend with my husband.  So, no escape there either.

My post today is not a complaint; it is more an acknowledgment that I need a new place to escape to and this time with the man God blessed me to love.  Life does bring changes and with those changes, new habits.  One thing I am realizing about marriage, which is something I have truly longed for, is the development of new traditions and good habits that make each union unique.  So basically, as my life is changing I am wondering how God will establish us together, find new places for us to escape to, because unlike what some believe, retreat is actually a good thing in some instances.

Leaving distraction and tiredness and trying environments with equally trying people are the winds of change that give your wings the motivation to soar to a place closer to the throne of God.  And that is what this time of year needs to be for us now.  My prayer is that God will give us the place of rest we can physically escape to.

The Teachers That Helped Make Me

This morning for my devotional reading in the "Names of God: Exploring God's Character" book, the theme was God as Teacher.  He is called a "Teacher" several times in the Old and New Testament.  Sometimes when we read the Bible, we read it as a distant observer, but this morning as I contemplated what the word "teacher" means, I thought about the teachers I have had throughout my life.  I thought about these teachers that have made the greatest impact on me, why they mattered, why I remember them even years later, and how their positions in my life can compare to God's role in my life today.

The first teacher that came to mind was my fourth grade teacher, Miss Gail.  Her name was actually Gail Battaglia, and in my eyes, as tough as she was on me and the other students in my class, she was an amazing teacher.  She made my experience at Southeast Academic Center in Grand Rapids, Michigan as a fourth grader something that stayed with me.  Even today, if I was able to teach as a career, I would pattern my teaching style after hers.  Miss Gail was the type of teacher that desired for her students to be proud of themselves, no matter what environment they came from.

She saw the importance of challenging our young minds, even when we would rather be lazy.  One of the main reasons she made an impact on my life is that she encouraged us to read by reading good books to us.  My favorite memory of her class was her reading "Roll of Thunder, Hear My Cry" by Mildred Taylor out loud.  I would gaze out the window and listen to Cassie's story in this book, knowing that the fictional tale paid homage to the world my grandparents had grown up in down South.

The next teacher that crossed my mind was my fifth grade teacher at Robert Burns Elementary School in Detroit, Michigan.  During this season in my life, my family life was in uproar, and in fact, we lived in a foreign environment, as I had never been to Detroit.  Yet, we found ourselves living on Hubbell Street in the midst of chaos and confusion.  Despite these elements in my life, Mrs. Burns (no relation to the man whose name the school bore) gave me a place of refuge and escape in her classroom.  She loved me and saw me as a student with promise - a student very different from some others in her class that would rather play than learn.

(Last weekend, my husband, nephew, and I drove right by the house where I had lived and the same elementary school, and I thought of her - the bright light in my otherwise dismal world.  I always wondered what happened to her, always questioned if she wondered what had happened to me.  I never forgot how she saw me for who I was and gave me a place to use my voice in her classroom.)

I went to two elementary schools in my fifth grade year.  The next teacher after Mrs. Burns was Mr. Vander (although, if my recollection is correct, his full last name was Mr. VanderLee).  He worked at Hillcrest Elementary in Grand Rapids.  My family had moved back there after a series of unfortunate incidents that were really answered prayer.  So, I found myself in his class halfway through the fifth grade year, playing catch-up.  Despite the transition, he picked up where Mrs. Burns left off and paid attention to my love of writing and art.  He paid for me to attend the Young Authors Festival that takes place at Calvin College the following Spring.  He took me to this event with two other students and even then, I realized how much it meant to be chosen because of my love affair with books and art.  This was one of the greatest experiences of my life as little girl.

These teachers represented certain aspects of God in my life that I recognize now as I look back in retrospect.  Miss Gail represented how God challenges us to learn, to grow, to appreciate the lives we have been blessed with.  When she read to us, this was representative of how God has never failed to use words to teach me - His life-giving Word - so I can effectively use it as I encounter more of life.  The written word anchors us to a certain time, place, and season.  God birthed in man the ability to write so the message of life could be conveyed in a way that transcends time and space.  Some things never fail to have an impact - most especially when written down and treasured.

Mrs. Burns exemplified how God never forgets about us; He still sees us in the most dismal of circumstances and that acknowledgment gives us permission to live.  That is what she did in the short time that I crossed her path and she crossed mine.  She was an amazing teacher, not because of what she taught in the fifth grade curriculum, but because she let me know I mattered to her.  That is just what God does when we are at our wits end, and we struggle with being able to see our way out of tough times.  He lets us know that we matter more than we realize.  He reminds us that He placed us on this earth, at a certain location, in specific circumstances and situations for a reason - to give Him glory.

Mr. Vander was the voice and action of God in my life.  He not only sees us, sees our potential, but invested Christ so that we could experience life more abundantly - the fullest extent.  This is no small thing.  The Blood of Christ was the greatest price paid; when He shed that blood for us, it solidified our worth.  The  other thing that Mr. Vander showed me by caring about my talents and passions was that I was born to stand out.  I was chosen to attend a young writer's program with two other students out of the other 30 children in his class.  This is not to say that there weren't others with talent, but he felt that my attendance would benefit me and the path that I was born to follow.

God does this too.  He selects us to follow a certain destiny, even when we have a hard time believing in ourselves.  I struggle with this even today, but God still places me in positions to flow in the passions He placed within and it is at these points that I see myself as He does.  When I am placed in an environment that bears witness with who I was born to be, I shine.  When I shine, this brings even greater glory and praise to God.

When I read that God is a Teacher this morning, it meant more when I was able to see the role these influential teachers played in my life.  They had characteristics that are reminiscent of the character of God.  That is why they made the impact they did in my life.  Impact is only made when God's Presence and Character shines through the lives of individuals in the world around us.

Remembrance...of HIM (Yeshua)

I cried this morning on my way to work as I watched the sunrise from car windows giving me a glimpse of the world speeding toward full morning.  These are what tears of joy and gratefulness and remembrance look like, when I think of HIM, this Jesus that the world dares not to believe in.

I thought of all the ways I believe in HIM, and this is the day that I am more aware of HIS Presence, because of what HE did for me.  Who knew that I would need a Savior, that grace is the bread torn representing HIS BODY and the wine poured is HIS BLOOD shed.  The very thought that I could be in the car this morning, driving my safe life to an office building, hoping to make a difference in the lives of HIS babies, was amazing.  HE, who died, gave me life and I am living it and at the time of a sunrise on Good Friday, I am more grateful than I have ever been before.  I am grateful that I can see the sun one more day on this earth, but I am also grateful one day I will gave into HIS face for eternity.

HE will shine on me, and all the pain of this world will no longer matter.  I believe we will remember this journey to grace as a distant memory as love enshrouds us.

I have told others "Thank you" for a variety of gifts and hugs and moments that my life was made easier by something they had done for me.  But, saying "Thank You" to the GOD that created me, that has never once thought me insignificant and in fact, gave my life value when HE laid HIS SON (HIMSELF) down for me...it was almost too much to consider as the tears streamed down and my heart melted.  How can I not be in love with HIM when HE is so clearly in love with me?

HE doesn't care about all the times I lost faith.  HE restored it.

HE doesn't care about all the times I yelled and screamed and fought, acting far less like one of HIS and more like one of those that nailed HIM.  HE quieted me with HIS songs of love and deliverance.

HE doesn't care about the times I made mistake after mistake or just called them mistakes, when I knew good and well that I was doing my dirt on purpose.  HE told me to sin no more and then proceeded to show me how a little bit more everyday.

HE doesn't care that others hate me or mistreat me because HE doesn't measure how HE loves me against how others don't.  HE shows me how to treat them with love as they are because HE does the same for me - never giving up on that love to do the work that physical intervention never could.

HE never once asked those critical ones if loving me enough to die for me was worth it.  HE didn't need their opinion since the GOD that created me thought of me before anyone on this earth ever laid eyes on me.

HE never once judged me according to man's standards; instead, HE held a higher standard up to me and said "I came to give you life, life more abundantly."

So this morning, yes...I cried like a baby when I felt HIM nearer than ever.  I thanked HIM profusely as I considered even in my limited thinking and finite mind how miraculous it was that I even could form the word in my mouth.  HE made this mouth.  And I was so glad that this day ever happened, though it breaks my heart that it had to.  I am still so glad that HE did give up HIS life for me because I don't even think I could give up my life for me, more less anyone else.

This is Good Friday.  A Good God Day, as one of my foster mothers that care for the babies that need love told me once, a day of deep remembrance, the day I was on HIS mind thousands of years ago.  We have a GOOD GOD and if CHRIST hadn't died today, I wouldn't be alive to know it.

AND THIS IS WHY I GOT MARRIED...

He listens to me rant and rave about the unfair complexities of the world and he agrees with most of it.  I scream "Not fair!" and he listens to me.  That is why I got married.

Not because I now have someone that will agree with me when I am offended, but to have someone challenge me to grow beyond it.

"Be the one that takes away pain from people, not the one that imposes it on them."

I stop short, wonder what he means, and then when he explains, I think that maybe God has sent me someone that sees my heart and doesn't misconstrue my passion for obsessive compulsion.  He sees me as "Care Bear", the name that he has given me - the husband renaming his wife with something more than a last name change.  It made me smile the first time he called me that, when I unveiled my big ol' heart that I want so desperately to hide sometimes because being this passionate about anything can be embarrassing.

"Be the one that takes pain from people, not the one that imposes it on them."

I am not perfect.  He sees that and reminds me that it is okay to not be.  He reminds me that I do not have to live up to other people's standards of living.  The only Person I have to please is God, so it's fine if I need a Savior sometimes.  Everyday.  All the time.  It's okay if I have enemies so long as Jesus is my Friend.  Life wouldn't be worth living if I didn't have someone that used to love me, treat me like Judas treated Jesus.  I'm not Jesus but betrayal is a painful part of being human.

How will I respond? my husband basically asked when he sent me this statement via text today.  Will I be the same passionate person that has the Care Bear heart or will I retaliate with anger or pain or rejection of other people.  He knows that even though I want to put the Care Bear on the shelf, I can't.  Not when my heart aches at the pains of the world at the end of the day.

This is why God sent me him.

Because he, though he proclaims that he is not sensitive, is teaching me that being sensitive is the only way I can survive all that I see and experience on a daily basis.  And my little world is better the more I operate in my lane, the more I shine my Care Bear stare on the world around me.

"Be the one that takes pain from people, not the one that imposes it on them."

Words to live by.   And I thank God for him for reminding me of who I am.

                                                                        "Care Bear Stare!"

This Morning...Six Years Later...

This morning I drove in - gray clouds on one side of my car windows' view and a pink rising sun-sky on the other, reminding me of yesterday and today all in one look.  I am singing with all my might to the God that created that sky and that morning and me, all over again but definitely not the same.  I am thinking of this day as it was 6 years ago today, but also what it means today, with my world so upside-down and never conceived of in my mind those many sunrises ago when I could never imagine being or remotely living without my "dad".

I don't want to think of the sad way my heart beat those years back, when there was no brightness to my day awaiting me.  I think instead that he is not so much gone as he is somewhere else, somewhere I'm not physically.  But I am most spiritually aware that when I sing as loud as I am, my voice is reaching up to where he is, where they all are, all the people that ever mattered to me and knew Jesus as Savior before they breathed their last.  He is where my song is flung.  And not only that, he is where my children are now existing in the heart of our Creator.  My "dad" will see my son and daughter before I do, and that gives me so much peace, as I drive in today.

It may sound weird to others that do not believe in God or what He does or what He will always do.  But just like I know the man that went home to be with Him six years ago today is very much alive, my son and daughter not yet manifested physically on this earth exist with God in a place my eyes cannot see.  My body is preparing for their arrival before conception has even taken place.  They live in God's mind and heart, just like I did before I was born.  God knew me before I was ever formed in my mother's womb.  He thought of me then just he thinks of my and Mr.'s children now.

I think of these little ones that will spend time here on earth making an impact and being that seed that will continue to help bruise the enemy's head.  They will live here and be everything God ever intended.  They have parents and grandparents that are praying for them already, and how powerful is that?  How powerful is it to have people praying for your arrival before you are even aware that you have somewhere to be?

Today, I thought of all this, as I sang and thought and prayed.  My destination was not so much an office building, but a place of worship where I could touch those who were here and have gone on, then touch those who have never been here but will be soon.  It didn't matter what I would face today.  Everyday life is not really what we realize anyway.  We live physically but the eternal is all that matters.  And to me that is all that really has my attention.

I thought of a smile that I miss desperately, but feel all the time, like the sunshine I crave for now because winter has lasted too long.  I thought of smiles I have never seen but one day will.  And I sang louder....

I GET TO....

Spend my afternoon eating really amazing food with a really amazing man, saying I love you over and over (without speaking a single word, because love warrants that you don't have to)...

Spend my life with a person that can annoy me into loving him just a little bit more everyday....

Consider that one day there will be a baby that looks like him - the perfect smile, full lips, beautiful eyes, chiseled nose....

Consider that he chose me just like I chose him and we both don't regret our choices (not today, not ever).....

Hold hands, fingers intertwined, walking through the mall where for once I get to pick him out something to wear....

Hold him in my arms, hugged close, heart to heart...

Forget that Valentine's Day is not just about him catering to me....

Forget the times when Valentine's weekend was just another time period on a calendar dating back to yesteryear, when it was never acknowledged as having anything to do with my life or as a moment to celebrate....

Know that no matter what we aren't the same as we were yesterday or last year or ten years ago......

Know that we are...right where we are...supposed to be....no longer separate individuals journeying through life but together...

FAST FORWARD

I am convinced today that there is no such thing as fast or slow; there is only now.  I'm pretty sure lots of people would disagree with me and most of them are familiar with my story in meeting my husband, our decision to marry after such a short time period, and the life we have now that appears to be ever moving forward in momentum.  The only thing I can say is that moving fast, like in a speeding car or when an airplane takes off a tarmac, can be dangerous.  There are plenty of times that has proven to be true.  We all know this.  This fact has contributed to many phobias.

Including mine up until a few years ago when I sat next to my mom on an airplane bound for L.A.

But I was thinking, when considering the people I love and the ways that they entered my world and what we did after that entrance, some things appear to move fast but the truth is they move as they are designed to.  Relationships move at the pace they were designed to.  There is no measurement tool for love. Sometimes you just know that you're supposed to run with someone - run somewhere fast in order to catch up with an intended destiny.  Sometimes you are supposed to move forward with someone and in that moving forward, the speed really doesn't matter.  The only important is that you are making life happen in momentum.

We say the pace does matter, but the truth of love, is not something that can be measured in human standards since it did not originate with humans in the first place.  We wouldn't know a thing about loving anyone or anything if it wasn't for the God that made us.  He loved us before we ever became, before being a living being on this earth was ever an option, before time ever was.  So now that we are here, the only thing that even matters is how we express the emotions and the truth and the commitment that having real love takes.

So, no...there is no fast or slow.  There is the response we give when there is no denying that moving forward with that person holds the key to a God-graced future that is unquestionably undeniable.

My hubby and I wore Chuck Taylor's (Converse All-Stars) on our wedding day in December 22, 2012.  We laced up out running shoes and headed straight for the altar.  We decided that tight dress shoes for him and impossibly high heels for me was unthinkable and ridiculous.  We had somewhere to get to.  That day.  At that moment.  For now.  For today.  For life.

Is anyone else supposed to keep up with us (hence, some of the opinions regarding the speed at which we were moving after initially meeting)?  No.  Is anyone else supposed to understand the purpose of the momentum?  No.  Can anyone on this earth replicate what we have, as a couple?  No.

Why?  Because this is us.  This is our moment.  This is our "happily ever after."

There is no fast or slow...there IS only now.  If tomorrow isn't promised then why aren't we tying up tennis shoes and quickening the pace to purposefully appreciate each passing second?

I am not a "runner" (or a "jogger" like my cousin Tiesha), though I wish I was.  I wish I had the joints to take the constant concrete pounding everyday because to me this is the best form of exercise - building your body up to run a race.  When I was a little girl, I used to run and was pretty good at it.  But today, I consider what she does, what all runners do, to be a great analogy relating to life, though I cannot physically do it right now.  I am hoping one day I can.

When you are a person that runs, specifically outdoors, I would think that while you are concentrating on proper breathing, appropriate shoes to absorb shock, and avoiding Charley Horses and cramps, you are paying attention to your surroundings.  You see things from a different vantage point.  You are moving as fast as humanly and physically possible with no artificial means to expedite your mission (riding in a car, riding a bike, or riding on an animal equipped to move faster than your little legs can carry you); yet, you are not moving as fast as someone being helped along with those things.  So you can see the world around you.  You can see the trees, the sky, the life passing on either side of you.  You can really identify the beauty that is only fleeting when you are in a car or on a horse or on a bike.

You may be moving forward faster, but you are not moving forward blindly.

That's what my husband and I are doing - keeping pace with each other, arms pumping at our sides, legs moving us from yesterday to tomorrow.  We are moving faster than most, but still have the ability to enjoy the sunshine.

WRITING LOVE

We were four years old and were, I think, the only African-American girls in our kindergarten class, though I am not entirely sure for two reasons:
(1) I was 4 and now I'm 35.  So, my brain has progressed (or regressed, depending on how you view it) over the past 31 years, and I cannot be accurate as to the logistics of kindergarten demographics.
AND
(2) For me, we may have been, at least in my view, the only important 4-year-old Black girls in my little world which was probably in the early stages of being an egocentric person.

But back to her...this one friend that I had in this lowly kindergarten class on the Northeast side of Grand Rapids, Michigan...this one person that shared a unique quality like me that made her my ace boon coon even back then.  She had what was considered a strange name.  Just like me.

We were in early elementary together, the two girls with the strange names and the creative gift of writing.  We both loved books and words.  It wasn't until we entered middle school at Northeast Middle School and Creston High School (yay, Polar Bears!) after years of not seeing each other and growing up in different paths that we had some semblance of writing and putting words together.  She became my favorite poet, really, having this grasp of words and language and humor that was signature of this young woman with the name that could no longer be considered strange but had to be considered artistic and biblical license by her parents.  She wrote things that stirred in me the desire to write.

Even today that is a most difficult thing for anyone to do.  My taste in the written word has become much more eclectic now that The Babysitter's Club and Are You There, God?  It's Me, Margaret has passed into my literary history.  No one can effectively make me pick up a pen quite like this woman.  When writer's block threatens to invade, I think of something she has said or written.  And she doesn't even know that she has been a buoy tossed out to me time and again when words fail and I sink into "thick-brain."

A couple years ago, this woman with the artistic name published a book, a beautiful poetry book entitled Respective Dreamlands.  It is the tome I pick up along with The Complete Collected Poems of Maya Angelou.  She sits in the picture above at her first book signing for this book that could barely hold her poetic genius, smiling her heart-smile which even today I miss seeing everyday.

Her birthday is the month after mine, a couple weeks before Thanksgiving.  Her birth month had to be chosen by God before the foundation of the world.  I imagine that when He thought of her, He started smiling too as He considered the exact time and generation that He would present her to the world.  She would have to be born in November in the exact generation I was because my life had to be impacted so righteously and artistically by her.  She had to be born in a month that would remind me that I have at least one thing to be thankful for...that I ever met her.

To me, Mykal is a woman that cannot be replicated but absolutely must be celebrated for her ability to intertwine God, faith in Him, and life's raw beauty in a uniquely poetic form.  And I am thankful for her presence, her love of writing, her truth in my world.  She shows me how to not take life so seriously but instead see the poetic humor in it all.

FRIEND LOVE

When I met this woman, I was 22 years old, engaged, thinking I didn't want to be and was trying to be free from the responsibilities of life.  I started working at a camp on Lake Michigan (Camp Blodgett) that summer of 2000, thinking that I could escape everything.  I didn't realize I would run right into a new friendship that would last me, now, nearly 13 years and counting.

I listened to a workshop by Shauna Niequist today about "Friendship" and I have to say that the words she spoke about maintaining real friends reminded me of the beautiful woman pictured above.  I do not reasonably think that I could be me if she wasn't here.  Everything about my life today has been shared in some way with her and nothing that matters to me is kept from her.  She knows me through and through; she even has the ability to subtly (and sometimes not so subtly) chastise me without me raising an eyebrow or getting an attitude.  (Those that know me have probably experienced "the Myama attitude" once or twice.)  Let me be clear though...it's not that she's never said something I didn't agree with.  She just says it in a way that makes me think about life and my response to it.

Not many people can do that...successfully.

The baby girl she is holding is her "mini-me", her daughter that resembles her in so many ways.  I have watched her mother this little girl from the womb and onward, mother her nephew-now-son from the heart and onward.  And I cannot wait until she is the aunt to my children that they will need as they get older.  She took my wedding photos at my wedding in December, braving the freezing cold Michigan winter with her family, so she could capture my day.  She dressed her (my) babies up so they could precede me down the aisle.  And it was then that I realized that we are indeed friends/twins joined for life.

This woman...Toya...is the friend whose love I cannot live without.  And this post of tangible love is dedicated to her...

TRUE LOVE

Christmas Morning, 2012...The dawn is slowing coming through the windows, and the room is still dark where the man sits propped up in bed.  His hands are trembling as he reaches for a pen and paper.  He knows what he must do.  He must write before he no longer has the strength to say what he needs to.

She is in the other room, preparing for the day.  He has told her over and over that he does not want the family to have a sad Christmas Day.  He wants her to celebrate it as they always have for their large family.  The children are used to a certain affect on this date - bright and shiny decorations, millions of presents under the tree, and lots of goodies to eat.  He knows that because of finances some things had to be sacrificed, but he does not want his family to suffer.  He is also aware that his very life was being sacrificed, in the years to come, Christmas Day will always be bittersweet.  He wishes, just like most men, that he could prevent that.

It is out of his hands.  But what is not out of his hands is his ability to write words that can help his wife know his thoughts and heart and feelings before he was to leave for HEAVEN.

He shifts uncomfortably in bed as he prepares to write, the pain in his body being almost unbearable.  Thoughts fill his head of the first time he ever saw her, how he felt when he laid eyes on her, and how he knew then that they were meant to be.  Tears fill his eyes as he considers that they really didn't have enough time to express the love he knows they shared from day one.  They had only been married for 18 years; when the commitment was made, they thought for sure they would grow old together - retiring in some warm destination once all their beautiful children were grown and gone, living their own lives.  He stares down at his frail arm, once so muscular and manly.  He feels like his spirit is outgrowing his body, and he only has so much time to write the words.

He presses the tip of the pen to the paper and begins to write...

As an onlooker at a funeral that should not have been taking place, I listened to words a husband wrote to his wife on a cold Christmas Day.  He wrote the words until he had no more strength to tell her how much he loved her, adored her, thanked her for their life together.  My heart ached as I heard him say he did not want to leave her, leave their family, leave their children; yet he knew it would be their last Christmas together.  He thanked her for the richness of their marriage; he said that his life was blessed because of her.

A few days before he wrote that letter, I was standing at an altar staring into the eyes of a man that I loved  and committed to stay with until death.  So, as I sat there with the audience of concerned friends, loved ones, and community members listening to the man's letter, my heart began to break.  And yet, it began to beat with an intensity to love my husband even more - my husband, waiting for me at home.  The letter was from a man dying of cancer on Christmas Day but vibrantly and evidently still in love with his wife.  He refused to leave this earth before he said everything he needed to say to her.

Today, this post is a dedication to Debbie and Ricky - this color whose very lives together was a testimony and a landmark for me on my journey toward being the best wife I can be.  For the sake of privacy, I cannot post their pictures.  But I wanted to share this story, this moment in time, with the world - a world that is broken in so many places.  This man, though he was suffering, loved his wife.  That Christmas morning, his only thought was thanking God for the gift he had been given - the woman he called his "Angel" several times throughout the letter.

At the end of the letter, he asked her to give him one more chance to say more about his love for her.  I do not know if he ever got the chance (at least on paper).  But the one thing that will always be honored and cherished in her heart, as her life goes on, is how he pressed that pen into that paper and the words inside his heart flowed out.  HE wrote that for HER.  HIS words on THAT paper will remain, etched into it like stone.  HE loved and loves HER still...right from heaven to here on earth.

In the Lord's Prayer, there is a statement that says "Thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven."  This is made more clear to me now what that really means.  God's will is love - LOVE LIKE THIS.  In other words, as this story exemplifies, the prayer is that LOVE be done on earth as it is in heaven.  Ricky is in heaven, loving forever more the "love of his life" - his Debbie.  It is still working and making an impact even though he is physically absent.

Love never dies.

NEVER.

I thank God for that.  I have learned that in my own life.  OVER AND OVER AGAIN.

I want to dedicate a song to this couple and to us all...for remembrance and honor.  It reminds me of their love affair...please watch this and remember that at the end of the day, love is all that matters.  And nothing in this world can stop it - not even the grave.  (Jesus overcame that.)

I pray that Debbie knows this...the morning after her husband's funeral...the morning after she laid  eyes on the man that wrote that letter for the last time in this earth realm...the morning after she woke up in an empty bed and with a broken heart...THIS morning when their youngest children will undoubtedly enter the room and ask for him.

I pray for all that have had to say goodbye to those gone on before and felt their heart breaking in the process...hoping that one day God would help them pick up the pieces.  I've been there too.  But as life has carried on, I have learned to open my heart again.  That is why December 22 will always be a life-changing day for me.




Here is a book that I read, that helped me get through my own process and helped me understand that love has a way of finding you again.  Because it will and it can and it does...

SISTER LOVE

The CD I am listening to everyday now, on my way to work and everywhere else, is Israel and New Breed's  "Jesus at the Center", a compilation that cuts me to the quick and for me probably the one work of artistry and worship that this group has done in recent years that has the ability to speak for me.  I sing at the top of my lungs at 6:30 in the morning on my way, in the dark, before life cuts me to the quick and reminds me why I have to sing in the first place.  Even as I am singing, I am seeing the faces of the children that have been ingrained on my heart and I know as I sing to Jesus, I am imprinted on His hands and heart as well.  I sing, knowing that I don't have to apologize for being passionate about this call, like His, that matters more than selfish ambition.

I sing and consider the people that matter most to my world.  I hope they will  be blessed every step of the way, each day.

Love overrides all and grace touches in ways that mere presence can't.

I listen to the CD and thank Jesus for grace and love and music - the ability to sing of it all at this time in my life when I never thought I would have it again.  How awesome to have it all and yet be required to pour it all out into the lives that God sends my way to impact.

So I listen today.  I listen to this song that has resonated in my soul every time it is sang by various artists (Bob Dylan, Israel and New Breed, Adele) - "To Make You Feel My Love."  And to me that is what it is all about - making people feel my love, tangible and strong and vibrant.  What is the point of love, of justice, of grace if people don't feel it?  It must be felt all the way to the bone and blood and tissues - deep calling to the deep in all of us.  That is the point of even being here at all.  We can't be lukewarm. We can't be mediocre.  We have to pour it all out.  And then God gives it all back again.  Every day.

That is what I am learning today as I listen to this CD.

So with that in mind, I am going to love the souls that God has brought my way in a tangible way so the whole world knows that these souls matter to God and me.  This is the direction I will go with this blog for now.  No more complaints.  No more pointless debates.  Only love.

I think of these two women, as I think of highlighting love in a tangible way here on  my blog, not as the only women that matter but as the ones that will start out the trend here and most especially because I thought of them this morning on my drive to work:

These are ones that have made a huge difference in the earth for me in the last 15 years.  When I think of what my life as an adult has meant, I cannot help but think of them.  They helped me become the woman I am today, have stayed prominent when I had no one else to care.  They have taught me what true sisterhood looks like.  They are love to me.  They are family to me and each other, these sisters.  The beauty they exemplify means more than they even realize, as the day to day living life seems to be so difficult at times.  I want them to always know that they will always be special to God and me.  They will always be graced.  Although their parents helped shape me as well, they have been just as important to my life.

As I said earlier, as I drove to work with "Jesus at the Center", I thought of them today.  I prayed for them today - for their families, relationships, careers, finances, homes, and futures.  I prayed for their children and their children's children.  That is what I need them to know whether they read this or not.  That they are tangibly loved and I worshiped God as I thought of them.  This is more important than anything else.

And so today, with much appreciation that they are here in my world, I love them.

New Year, New Life

I took some time away from blogging so I could actually get married and then actually be married in these early days after the vows.  I thought many days about what I would say with my first blog post as a married woman, wanting to be prolific and full of wisdom and able to answer the questions I raised just before saying "I do" to Mr.  What I can say is that I am more wise because of love and what the love of God and the love of Mr. has done to me.  I am not more wise  or full of more wisdom because I had it within myself all along.  It came along with the vows and the commitment made - like a gift dropped down from heaven at the very moment we took that next step.

The intense love of both God and my man has changed me, even this early on - has settled me, has established me, and has integrated my selfish mind and heart.  I thought I was a person that thought more of others than myself, but marriage is really the only relationship (besides parenthood) that demands it.  And everyday, when the good of the household has to outweigh what I thought would be good for only me, I realize that I have to do this ten times more.  And no it is not rote or innate.  It takes deliberate concentration to not be who I was before "I do."  I have to be the woman that said "I do" and is now learning to "do" and "be" and "translate" the language of intense love and devotion everyday.

I thank God for this.

I thank God for the challenge to love deeper and broader and wider.  I thank God for the challenge to share a home and a life with this man - this man with the infectious laugh and music in his veins and love staring into my eyes.  I thank God that it really isn't a challenge at all.

It is what I want to do.  More than anything in this world.  In this new year.  In this new life.

IN THIS SEASON OF WAITING

This year, the light even looks different in the sky, as I am driving in to Port Huron; the viewpoint is different and the reality of what this time of year represents for me is very new.  I've waited before, as in celebrating Advent, but this year, the waiting is for a tangible something.  The waiting is for Christ to be revealed in a new way, inside a new relationship, inside a new commitment.

I see Christ's coming to this earth those many centuries ago through a different set of lenses, as I wait for the next two weeks to pass as they have every year before this one.  He is about to be revealed as I have not had the chance to in those previous seasons.  He is about to teach me how much He really does love me, as Mr. loves me in proxy for Him on this earth.  Mr. is to love me as Christ loves the church, as the Bridegroom loves the Bride.  He is about to vow what Christ did when He appeared and changed the journey of mankind.  Mr. is about to do for me what Christ did for us all - give love like blood and bone and breath.

"Wives, be subject (be submissive and adapt yourselves) to your own husbands as [a service] to the Lord.

²³ For the husband is head of the wife as Christ is the Head of the church, Himself the Savior of [His] body.

²⁴ As the church is subject to Christ, so let wives also be subject in everything to their husbands.

²⁵ Husbands, love your wives, as Christ loved the church and gave Himself up for her,

²⁶ So that He might sanctify her, having cleansed her by the washing of water with the Word,

²⁷ That He might present the church to Himself in glorious splendor, without spot or wrinkle or any such things [that she might be holy and faultless].

²⁸ Even so husbands should love their wives as [being in a sense] their own bodies. He who loves his own wife loves himself.

²⁹ For no man ever hated his own flesh, but nourishes and carefully protects and cherishes it, as Christ does the church,

³⁰ Because we are members (parts) of His body."  (Amplified Version)

That is a tremendous job, a deeper call than any other.  Much more purposeful than even I first realized.  I truly can submit to the authority of one that is supposed to love me in such a soul-enriching, spirit-life loving way because that is what I have wanted from the beginning of time.  That is the only thing that has kept me waiting all this time.

And me?  What is my job in two weeks?

To be that bride and that wife, the one loved and cared for - the one that makes Proverbs 31:10-31 come alive in Mr.'s life.  It does not seem like much of a transfer of responsibility as a response to vows spoken, but as I submit to the commitment, this is me, this must be me (even when life spirals on in the way that it does):

" A capable, intelligent, and ^[a]virtuous woman—who is he who can find her? She is far more precious than jewels and her value is far above rubies or pearls.

¹¹ The heart of her husband trusts in her confidently and relies on and believes in her securely, so that he has no lack of [honest] gain or need of [dishonest] spoil.

¹² She comforts, encourages, and does him only good as long as there is life within her.

¹³ She seeks out wool and flax and works with willing hands [to develop it].

¹⁴ She is like the merchant ships loaded with foodstuffs; she brings her household’s food from a far [country].

¹⁵ She rises while it is yet night and gets [spiritual] food for her household and assigns her maids their tasks.

¹⁶ She considers a [new] field before she buys or accepts it [expanding prudently and not courting neglect of her present duties by assuming other duties]; with her savings [of time and strength] she plants fruitful vines in her vineyard.

¹⁷ She girds herself with strength [spiritual, mental, and physical fitness for her God-given task] and makes her arms strong and firm.

¹⁸ She tastes and sees that her gain from work [with and for God] is good; her lamp goes not out, but it burns on continually through the night [of trouble, privation, or sorrow, warning away fear, doubt, and distrust].

¹⁹ She lays her hands to the spindle, and her hands hold the distaff.

²⁰ She opens her hand to the poor, yes, she reaches out her filled hands to the needy [whether in body, mind, or spirit].

²¹ She fears not the snow for her family, for all her household are doubly clothed in scarlet.

²² She makes for herself coverlets, cushions, and rugs of tapestry. Her clothing is of linen, pure and fine, and of purple [such as that of which the clothing of the priests and the hallowed cloths of the temple were made].

²³ Her husband is known in the [city’s] gates, when he sits among the elders of the land.

²⁴ She makes fine linen garments and leads others to buy them; she delivers to the merchants girdles [or sashes that free one up for service].

²⁵ Strength and dignity are her clothing and her position is strong and secure; she rejoices over the future [the latter day or time to come, knowing that she and her family are in readiness for it]!

²⁶ She opens her mouth in skillful and godly Wisdom, and on her tongue is the law of kindness [giving counsel and instruction].

²⁷ She looks well to how things go in her household, and the bread of idleness (gossip, discontent, and self-pity) she will not eat.

²⁸ Her children rise up and call her blessed (happy, fortunate, and to be envied); and her husband boasts of and praises her, [saying],

^29 [b]Many daughters have done virtuously, nobly, and well [with the strength of character that is steadfast in goodness], but you excel them all.

³⁰ Charm and grace are deceptive, and beauty is vain [because it is not lasting], but a woman who reverently and worshipfully fears the Lord, she shall be praised!

³¹ Give her of the fruit of her hands, and let her own works praise her in the gates [of the city]!"  (Amplified Version).

It may seem like such a big job but I have been through much to get me to this place.  It was all worth it - the pain, rejection, heartache to exemplify love on such a deeply gratifying manner...

Uncle Love

Yesterday, during a quick lunch break from work, I stood in my mom's bedroom talking with her and my uncle about my wedding, what I needed him to do as he finished walking me down the aisle and the words I needed him to speak in tribute during the ceremony.  He was miles away, speaking over the phone and at the sound of his voice I missed him deeply.  One thing I have always known about him that has helped shape me is the poetic nature of this man.  For me, my wedding wouldn't be reminiscient of me or Mr. without poetic tributes - most specifically from this father figure.

My uncle in his conversation was the reminder that I needed - the reminder of the me I have always been but seemed to lose in the hubbub of planning a new life with a man that I am daily knowing and loving more.  My uncle, like a wise sage, has this ability to orate the world, to give voice to yesterday, now, and tomorrow in his eloquent way.  He means the world to me, and as I heard him give an example of his ability to uplift the world by loving someone through words, I sighed.  The day was better for me in just that instant.  All the stress from the day, all the thoughts regarding my job, dissipated into thin air.

Words do that to me.  His words do that to me, like a daughter hearing her daddy's voice over and above everything else trying to confuse and muddle things.

"I want to read something to you," he said after he'd been given clarity about my wedding day requests.

He had written a superhero vignette about his middle grandson, Jaheim, the 5-year-old dynamo that has a special place in my heart as well.  As he elaborately described this little boy's hidden superhero powers (written because he just did not want to see him ever question his purpose or his esteem on this earth), I felt the invocation to be great as well.  He had written this for him, in language Jaheim would understand - the poetic language of superhero-dom.  My uncle, this boy's PaPa, loved him like my grandfather had once loved me, as special and perfect and wonderful (even when I was none of those things).  Tears welled in my eyes when my uncle's words encircled my mother and I as we listened, voice full of love and inflection in tribute and adoration of this boy, son of his boy.

And then, excitement welled in my heart, as I considered the power of the words he would speak in less than a month as I vowed to be an enduring and committed wife.  I was excited as I thought of how he would invoke that same power as he spoke of my grandfather, my grandmother, Mr.'s grandparents, my godfather in elegy.  I had no doubt that this would be the one day that mattered more than any that had come before.  Not because of a white dress or a tuxedo or flowers or rings, but because my uncle's love for me, for family, for life would frame the day.

And that will be enough for me to make that day complete, God willing.

Words and Prayers

My first prayer when I considered getting married, as a little girl, was that I would never marry an angry man or a man that was overly emotional about the simplest of things (because contrary to popular opinion, men are and can be emotional; they just display the rawness of their emotions in different ways).  But yet, I desired a man that was able to tap into his spiritual nature as often as necessary, as beautiful as huMANly possible.  Not just the temporal things that made him tap into all those uncontrollable emotions. 

Growing up, I did not see much of that...I saw a lot of running away from spirituality, a lot of denial of God's Presence, a lot of last-minute acceptance when there was no other recourse.  Except for my grandfather, the other father figures seemed aloof from the pursuit of this.

And yet this God I love and believe in, this real and amazingly supernatural God, answered those quiet prayers whispered as 11-year-old eyes witnessed the complexity of the male species in my world.  He sent one.  Others may say God has very little to do with the choices we make in selecting a lifelong partner.  While in form and physicality He may not be as involved, because the embodiment of love can change shape when one man dies and another appears, He is involved in the means for love to find us all.  He intends for love to find us.

I believe that most of all, after meeting Mr. such a short time ago.  Everyday, like a gift, he is unfolded before my eyes.  More of his ability to dig deeper into himself, the most risky move a man can make in front of a woman, is bringing to life the parts of him that once remained hidden from view.  I love it.  I love it the more I see him reveal his heart to me.  I consider it the most priceless gift I have ever been given.

Mr. opened the well-worn covers of the Bible held in his hands, seeking a Word from this God that we both love.  He cracked that cover open and I couldn't help but snap a photo of masculine spirituality at work.  His rough hands held the Book close to his chest as his eyes slowly took in each Word.  These hands work on parts in a factory all day.  These hands pull me into his embrace as his arms hold me close, after this work is over.  These hands have touched many things, but in the moment the picture was snapped the only thing that mattered more than any of it was how he held that Bible.

Mr. tells me about Isaiah 51 - how God whispers the mystery in his ear of why the hard times come and how best to view his role in the world around him.  He says prayers before meals, that do not even really deal with the preparation of the food, the ones that prepared it, though he does mention it as part of the many blessings God so graciously provides us.  What strikes me as rich is how he doesn't customarily recite the words he learned as a child round a dinner table.  He speaks "grown man prayers" as his faith has grown up and he has seen, witnessed, dealt with many issues in life that point to a God that has always walked with him.  Mr. says these"intercessory prayers" and my heart is enamored with the deep bass of his voice reminding God of who He is.

He lifts his hands to heaven - these same hands that have done so much.  And he makes me want to lift mine, repent of everything I have ever done wrong, embrace this God that loves us both - not that I didn't spend a lifetime wanting to do this before.  The thing is, when Mr. does it, the lesson hits home about what it really means for the man to be the priest of the home.  I feel the protection in ways that having to cover myself all these years never really taught me.  Mr. is doing for us both what is in his real nature to do. 

We say a man is supposed to work; you don't work, you don't eat.  This is true across the board no matter what faith you ascribe (subscribe) to.  But what makes my faith in this God above us most true of all is the fact that Mr.'s work, his natural and supernatural work in this earth realm, feeds me too. It feeds me.  I get fat off the work he is doing with hands lifted, Bible held in rough hands, mind and heart internalizing more of God.

He seeks Words from God and then he prays words to God.  When he does this, in his  no-nonsense masculine manner, he reminds me of my grandfather - the only man I ever heard pray before I sought faith on my own.  Mr. reminds me of the past, the present, and the future all at the same time.  Mr. does for me what I need from a marriage.

Thank God.

PACKING IT ALL UP

So anyway...this is the time and the season that the love humming just below my breastbone reminds me what I was waiting for.  We pack up and move on because instinctively we know that we have to accept that nothing is meant to last forever.  And so I am doing that - packing up my life as a single woman, boxing pictures in frames, shoving old clothes and memories and thoughts into garbage bags because quite frankly some things don't need to go to the next place and cannot go to Goodwill so someone else can make memories out of them.  Some things have to go in the bright red metal receptacle outside my apartment waiting with open-mouthed anticipation.

So anyway...I have six large boxes in my room waiting for me to put in the things that I am keeping - books, journals, photographs of babies that are now adults and adults that are in some ways like children again needing care, and words scrawled in notebooks that will never see a bookstore shelf.  They are waiting for me to put my singly purposed life in them, with the intent to be carried to a new location where space will be shared in a pseudo-forever fantasy.  It won't be forever but it will mirror Heaven on earth in its intent.  It won't be perfect but it will pull us closer to the One that pulled us closer to each other.

Glorious.

And so this is me, getting ready.  This is me packing a life into storage containers, as if such a thing is even possible after 15 years of living life on my own terms.  This is the process of saying good bye thankfully to the days when I thought I was in an apartment, forgotten by everyone. This is what other women (and men) traverse through when they are leaving the life of the bachelorette (bachelor) behind.  The path will not be seen again after the vow recitation;  there may be the (God-forbid) journey of a divorcee or the widow, but not the never married.  My hands will hold my life and will place it in a box.

The statement was made that perhaps I was scared, uncertain, fearful of the unknown and the known.  Quickly, "No, I am not" shot from my lips - not because the words were escaping before I could believe them but because this is NOT fear that I feel.  It is awareness that some things are over for good, and that is okay.  Some things need to end in life, though most people want to hold on to the things of yesterday and grab with full hands the things of tomorrow much to big for the grasp.

My mom has talked to me about some definite endings and possible endings in her life, though she has not explicitly used those words.  Her eyes and her words hint at her thoughts.  And the theme has rested on my mind lightly, like gentle feathers.  I watch her and know that as surely as I am accepting the changes in my life, I do not know if I am so easily accepting hers - the presence of the AARP necessities, the signatures needed, the planning in the drawers of her house that will tell me later how to let her life change from what I am currently used to.

Mr. and I have talked about familial expansion so that her hands and his parents' hands can cradle the baby to be born before they are not able to.  This is very important to us because our own grandparents meant so much to us, loving us into a place of being "spoiled" in some ways.  Baby must be loved like this by our parents - a sure gift hinted at around the dinner table.

Still, with each silent moment this weekend, as I pack up life, looking again at things that have to be hidden from view (even after the next location settles me), I will indeed wrap it up.  In a little more than a month, the bridge between "here" and "there" will be crossed.  In my imagination I wonder about how many more things will be different with a second point of view in the considerations.  One thing that has injured my heart in this process (because how could it ever be clean cut?) is the shaking of all that can be shaken: the absence of friends that I chose to release, the need for more solid loves, the defined roles that have to be established now.  This is never easy; it cannot be.

People are what they are; some pulled close have to be released.  I have no tolerance for selfishness anymore, but I understand that I have been selfish once.  So I know what it is like to be human wanting more than can be given when others are already stretched thin.  Some times the ones we love think they know us so well that they want to cross roles and  boundaries in ways that can place a crack in a place that is already fragile.  And I believe that in this journey, this Esther process, the proof of this is exactly what is manifesting.  The sad issue to me is when it is apparent to everyone, it smacks of something that cannot be ascertained or restored.

I have read Esther's story many times over wondering how she went from one life:  relationships, patterns of behavior, lifestyle to a totally separate other.  The past life was not able to intersect with where God intended for her to go next.  She packed her clothes to go live in a palace or a brothel for a king's use.  Whatever friendships she had before, decisions she made before, dreams she had before were all of non-effect once a king came into the picture.  I am pretty sure that like me she was hurt that her friends from the neighborhood, even the ones that she thought knew her well, could not go with her and even their advice had to be left in the place where she used to live.  She almost had to view what used to be advice for nosyness once her location changed.

I wonder as she packed her things, threw away things not fit for where she was going, how she felt about her future.  I do.  Not fearfully or with the thought that I am making a mistake, but with a clear awareness that some realities are transferable while others are not.  I can take "this" with me but because "that" represented some elements of my past (not necessarily bad), it cannot travel down the highway with me.  We talk about transferable skills in a job market or in a place of employment, but marriage is also a place where some skills that were okay when you were on your own cannot be used anymore when life changes again.

So everytihing else either gets packed up or thrown away.  You thank God for yesterday's treasures and even the things you thought were treasures but were really junk.  You thank Him for the lessons in the single state.  You keep it in your heart that you traveled on your own for a season and were able to utilize some major developmental changes.  But now?

Some things just can't go with you to be used later.  There is no recycling of everything in the palace.  Esther's old clothes, habits, friends, and customs could not be used and were discarded.  The Bible does not say that she grieved over the loss of those old elements of who she used to be.  She came into her new life with the understanding that where she came from mattered but where she was going mattered more.

Me too.

Now that is true wedding preparation.

Eve, Esther, and the Proverbs 31 Woman

This thought has been flowing over and over in my mind, as I am writing from my experience as a wife-to-be.  This is not strange for me, as I have always felt the need to chronicle my life journey for reasons unknown to me - perhaps it will mean something to somebody else one day.  Anyway, most of it seems prolific enough for me to write down.  Maybe it will all be a book one day.

I have never reflected more on my womanhood and presence on this planet than this pivotal moment in my life when I am getting ready to combine that Womanhood with Mr.'s Manhood (not talking about sex, so keep up, please).  It's not that I didn't notice the she in me when I was hanging with my girls (whom have all for the most part strangely gone mum or absent on me, with no help or advice).  When we were shopping, buying clothes, getting nails done, talking as women are wont to do, and battling between eating that dessert and eating those veggies, I definitely remembered my gender.  I love being a girl.  Wouldn't trade it.  But I never really THOUGHT about what it means in combination with a man's gender in that messy, miraculous thing called marriage.

There was nothing to ponder...like breathing...  You just are who you are; you just do what you do.

But the closer I get to that day when it's official, with all the prepping and life changes, I realize that there is something deeper God himself wants me to understand about me.  We don't really learn who we are until life demands that we bring our entire selves to the table.  We bring our entire selves forward when we are getting ready to join life to life.

The thoughts I have contemplated and meditated on focus around the three women that most women whom are actively attaining Christianity attribute our role in life or marriage to.  Eve, the first woman God made...Esther, the first Queen God crowned through life circumstances...the Proverbs 31 woman unnamed so we can all fill our names in the blank...all three have messed with my mind over the past nearly 6 months of marital consideration. 

Why are these three all up in my brain, so to speak?  Why do they matter?

The life intended, the mistakes made, the process walked through, and the perfection of being are not to be looked at lightly.  My preparation to love Mr. is not a mere "something to do" in the whole scheme of things.  While I may, as a woman, desire to have the perfection of the woman in Proverbs 31, I sometimes feel like Hadassah becoming Esther with the propensity of Eve to screw things up.  The process forces you to engage every part of the woman, every part of what makes you "not-so-perfect" but loved anyway, honored anyway, needed anyway.

How can all these elements be in effect but a man still sees the deeper purpose (very reminiscient of how our Creator sees us)?  How can grace finds us in that earthbound reality?  That is where I am right now, meditating on that grace.  He does love me, honor me, need me - little old me.  How? 

This pending marriage is crazy, in my head and through my eyesight.  How can someone love you enough to want to be joined to your life everyday?  How can someone want to be with you, when he knows that you can feed him something spiritually, emotionally, relationally, and (God forbid) physically; how can he know that what you feed him can make or break his entire life, that can affect his very purpose on this earth (like Eve).  Everyday, the question is raised to women - what are you feeding your spouse?  What are you feeding your children, your generations?  What are you giving them all that they are eating, internalizing, digesting?  Obviously, I am not talking about food.  God wasn't either when He questioned Eve about the fruit she gave Adam, when He asked her "What have you done?"

How can the man I believe God brought to my life love me when I came from a semi-orphaned existence, not entirely like Esther but uncovered paternally as she was until her cousin came along?  I had a different name, just as she did.  She came from somewhere that was not considered royalty.  She was not necessarily from a royal lineage; in reality, she was from a enslaved culture - bound to a reality she did not choose for herself but was hers  nonetheless.  I am not asking these questions from a place of pity, but from a place that acknowledges that marriage for me is like queenship for Esther - something never witnessed before.  The process to become a queen was a year's worth of hard work internally and externally.  I do not believe that the reason it took so long was based entirely on physical reasons.  Esther had to learn how to walk, to relate, to exist as a queen.  Where she came from had to be eradicated from her everyday though probably was never completely erased from her mind.  Not easy at all.

Finally, how can he (this man that has interrupted everything I ever thought about manhood) see me as this metaphysical manifestation of the woman he trusts his heart with?  Of all the things that stick out to me about the Proverbs 31:10-31 verses, these two hit me the hardest:

¹¹ The heart of her husband trusts in her confidently and relies on and believes in her securely, so that he has no lack of [honest] gain or need of [dishonest] spoil.

¹² She comforts, encourages, and does him only good as long as there is life within her.

Wow.  These are heavy statements to make, especially when there isn't much trust going around nowadays between men and women in marital relationships.  That doesn't mean there aren't any good marriages, so please don't misunderstand me; yet, I doubt anyone can deny the enemy's plan to destroy marriages and families.  But when I look at the truth of these verses, to  me they are more concrete than anything else I have ever seen in describing marriage.  After all, what is the point of a man marrying a woman and not being able to feel this about her, know this about her, testify this about her?

To me, the heart of a man is the most priceless and precious treasure he has.  When Mr. says he trusts me with his life and his heart enough to give them both to me forever, it makes me want to work harder (like that Proverbs 31 woman) to keep those gifts true, to make our home his sanctuary he can come home to when the world outside our door is so ruthless and dangerous to his heart and soul.  It makes me want to work harder at "making [him] feel my love" as Adele sang in her remake of the Bob Dylan classic.  He gives me something unable to replicated by anyone else, and I polish it like the gold of heaven, holding it dear.

These three women are forcing me to make this thing we have to be the best love we each could ever have.  This is no small thing; quite frankly, nothing any of us vow until death to treasure could ever be.  I see that now.