My Husband, the Deacon
What a special service we had last Wednesday night. I have only time for pictures, no words. And even if I had time, I still think I would have no words. Here are some pictures from the reception afterward…
This Ember Day
Chris is being ordained as a deacon at our church tonight. This makes all my senses on heightened alert. It may also be the sleep deprivation that has plagued us both for the last couple months. But I don’t think so. These last couple months have been hard. And when I say hard, I can only leave it at that. There are no words to describe the hardness. But it’s the hardest hardness I’ve ever known. Between his job, my job, three girls with very busy lives and multi-faceted needs, school, homework, church, driving all over kingdom come and beyond, not to mention all my mumble-jumbled emotions…
It’s been hard.
But I am so proud of him and how he’s persevered through the hardness and how he loves God and people truly and deeply and how he’s gently led our family through these hard times.
It’s kind of weird to be excited about something that in reality will only make things harder, but I think I am actually a little excited today! I don’t have any delusions about things getting any easier now. But it feels like we’re getting somewhere. And it feels like I’m slowly getting used to the hardness. I don’t know if I’ll ever have skin as thick as leather. But it might be a little more like paper that can go in a printer now as opposed to the tissue paper that it was, crumbling easily and breaking at the slightest puncture. Maybe it’s good that my heart is soft and mushy anyway. May the hardness never reach it.
I love you, Honey. I am so thankful that God has given you to be my husband for these past almost-twenty years. And I am thankful that you are now being given to the ministry of his Church. This life is good and I am thankful.
ALMIGHTY God, the giver of all good gifts, who of thy divine providence hast appointed divers Orders in thy Church; Give thy grace, we humbly beseech thee, to all those who are to be called to any office and administration in the same; and so replenish them with the truth of thy doctrine, and endue them with innocency of life, that they may faithfully serve before thee, to the glory of thy great Name, and the benefit of thy holy Church; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.
Hair, Part Three
Yes, I do realize there was never a Hair, Part Two, even though I promised one (a long, long time ago). So I have to leave room for that in case I ever get around to doing it someday. But I probably won’t. There is something I really love about unfulfilled promises. Not broken, just unfulfilled. I kind of enjoy people getting mad at me for them. It’s the constant bringing up of the promises I made that you and I both know I will never follow through on (but there’s always the possibility) that keeps the attention on me. I like that kind of attention.
But back to Hair, Part Three.
What is it that makes people think that the following statements are okay on days that I straighten my hair?
- Gasp! “What happened to your beautiful curls?” (while running their fingers through my hair, uninvited)
- “Boy, if I had curly hair, I just don’t think I would ever straighten it.”
- “Why is it that people always want what they don’t have? I have straight hair and I wish it was curly and you have curls and you wish it was straight.”
Translation (in my mind) to all three of those statements: “You are ugly, your mom is ugly, your mom’s hair is ugly, the music that you listen to is stupid and you’re an idiot.”
There is no good way to respond to these people. None. They are not giving a compliment, so I can’t just say “thank you.” They are making accusations (most of which are untrue) that instantly put me on the defensive. And I hate when I get defensive. I feel like a big ole lamebrain sitting there explaining to people that I like to be able to switch back and forth, all I did was blow it dry today and the curls will be back next time I wash it, straightening is fun sometimes because it will last three days (which means I don’t have to fix my hair for two days), blah, blah, blah, blah, blah.
And that’s my rant for this Monday.
Give me some attention, please.
Updates and Downbeats
One week and two days after I burst a blood vessel in my eye (or maybe EVERY blood vessel in my eye?), I am looking a little less like a vampire and a little more like a hepatitis patient. Originally the entire white area of my eye was blood red. And when I say entire, I mean ENTIRE. And when I say blood red, I mean no areas of sorta, kinda red were mixed in. It was shocking. BLOOD RED. My youngest daughter couldn’t even look at me without getting visibly nauseous. Today, there are still two little blood red dots close to the center and the rest of the white area is now a milky yellow-y, orange-y color.
I guess the doctor at the CareNow clinic was right when she said it could take up to two weeks to go away.
One day last week when I was driving home, I saw a sight that I have never before seen in my entire life. Right in the middle of rush hour traffic, headed due east on the freeway, about 5 miles away from my home, the moon began to rise. It rose directly in front of me, where the freeway disappeared over the ridge, into the horizon. I kid you not when I say that moon was the width of the entire five lanes of freeway traffic. It was like another planet was about to come crashing into us. Every crater was as big as my car and clearer than I have ever seen. I was literally driving with my jaw dropped open, staring at all the other people in all the other cars beside me, screaming at them and pointing, “Do you SEE that?!!!!?” Nobody looked at me or answered me. Nobody even had their mouth open. We just got invaded by another planet and nobody except me seemed to notice.
Five minutes later, I ran into my house and grabbed my camera off the countertop, screaming “Callie, Sadie, Grace!!!! You have to come with me NOWWWWWWW,” as I raced back out the door to the car that I had left running on the curb. Two of the girls made it out the door in time to join me as I drove like mad to a nearby field where I thought we might still be able to see it rising.
But we were too late. Only ten minutes at the most had passed and it was already high in the twilight sky. Looking beautiful, yes, but just looking like your average full moon. Neither Sadie nor Grace would let me take their picture in front of it, hiding their faces and running away and whining about how they didn’t have time to get “ready.”
So Grace took a picture of me. This is the best we could get. Me and the blurry moon that ten minutes earlier had been as big as the gas station on the corner.
I tried taking my camera to work the next day, hoping against hope that the rising would be in roughly the same place and time during the drive home and I could capture it. (No, I don’t text while driving but yes, I do photography while driving.) But alas, the day was cloudy and I saw no moon at all. None at all. Only clouds. But I did get some pictures at work that day, and I have to admit that it feels kind of good to finally have a record of the place where I spend most of my days.
Here I am at my desk.
And yes, I photoshopped my eye. No way I’m putting a picture of that ugly thing on here. No way, Jose.
And this is the view over the top of my desk.
And here I am with my cute friends I work with (or worked with). One is finishing up her temporary assignment this week, most likely, and one is having a baby this week, most likely. Can you tell which is which? Sniff. I’m going to miss them.
And my husband finished his exam he’s been working on for six months.
And I cut my hair all short this weekend.
And my daughters have all worked hard in school, and helped out around the house, and played music, and made laughter, and entered into family prayer with clear, loud voices, and kissed me goodnight before going to bed this week. And well, I really love them.
But I can’t stop biting the inside of my cheek, no matter how many deals I make with myself.
And I can’t get my iTunes store to open and I have an iTunes gift card burning a hole in my heart. And I really, really, really want to spend it. I sure wish I had a technical advisor like the olden days.
And that’s enough for today.
Unexpected Grace
Every beat of my heart pumps the desperate plea of escapism through my blood. And every vein carrying the blood through my body just presses back toward home. The need to escape and the burning homesickness flowing firmly together. Not gently, but like a raging river. Coursing on to battle.
The sun rises unexpectedly in my rear view mirror. A ball of flame, glowing red hot and orange, sitting there as though it’s normal for fireballs to sit there, in between sky scrapers, as wide as each of them and a million times more beautiful than either. The imposing architecture of these majestic structures reduced to objects that merely frame the only object around that’s suddenly worthy of any admiration; their stunning, mirrored glass paling in comparison to this thing from outer space, making it’s own light (with no need for mirrors to reflect some other light), invading our world with a magnificent display of power each and every morning.
My sixteen year old daughter leans over unexpectedly during church, puts her arm around my neck and kisses my cheek affectionately.
My priest gives me an unexpected birthday blessing at the communion rail, after placing the body of Christ in my hand, waiting to be consumed. “Watch over thy child, O Lord, as her days increase; bless and guide her wherever she may be. Strengthen her when she stands; comfort her when discouraged or sorrowful; raise her up if she fall; and in her heart may thy peace which passeth understanding abide all the days of her life; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.” Then he makes the sign of the cross, firmly upon my forehead. And I know that I am covered. I am covered, I am loved and I am filled as I eat the bread and am nourished and drink His precious blood and am enveloped in His grace.
Sometimes I cry so hard I pop blood vessels in my eye. Sometimes that happens on my birthday. Sometimes it can take a week or longer for the bright, red, bloody eye to go back to it’s normal white. So I remember the blood that covers me and I try not to care that people cringe when they look me in the eye. Here I am in all my glory, paling in comparison to the glory I reflect.
I have so very much to be thankful for.
Every beat of my heart longs for tenderness. And every vein in my body courses firmly on.
Inspiration
It’s not in the endless view of chrome fenders and exhaust pipes I see through the front of my windshield every morning.
It’s in the rainbow that I see way far up above the fenders. Over there to the right, in the sky. It didn’t even rain and it’s not going to rain. But two little white clouds squeezed themselves together at just the right moment. They kissed and it made a little tiny rainbow in the early morning light.
It’s not in the way that I can’t keep my foot steady on the gas, but must keep going, braking, going, braking, letting this guy in here, going again, trying to get over there, braking again, almost running into the guy in front of me.
It’s in the way I almost run into the guy in front of me because I am distracted by all those black birds over there to the left, way up in the sky. They don’t know or care that they’re in the middle of a concrete jungle. They only know that the patch of green right beside me, connecting one concrete patch to another is good enough for them to descend upon, all at once. A living work of art, they land in perfect rhythm, one after another and sit there contentedly as I and the guy in front of me drive on by.
It’s not in the way that the people getting off the elevator in front of me have the identical conversation with each other as they arrive at their respective places of employment on Monday morning: “Did you have a good weekend?” “Yeah – too short though.” “Tell me about it.” Then the elevator door shuts on them and the conversation is repeated as the next person gets off at the next floor.
It’s in the way that I feel when I create the perfect spreadsheet. All formulas work and everything balances and for a moment I am at peace. My desk is clean, my mind is quiet, my to-do list is shorter and my drawer is filled with all the pens, scissors and post-it notes that a girl could want.
It’s not in the fact that today was the 65th day this year over 100 degrees. There is no longer any satisfaction in beating old records.
It’s in the realization that today is the last day of this month. All things start new tomorrow. It can only get cooler from here, right? Right?
It’s in the sound that my Coke can makes when I pop it open during the afternoon lull.
It’s in coming home to my middle girl, sitting alone in the living room, playing her dad’s guitar.
It’s in watching the delight on my youngest’s face when ¾ of the way through The Magician’s Nephew, she realizes with great joy that this story is just like the story of Adam and Eve.
It’s in my oldest telling me all about getting the best sushi in the world with her best friends in the world and looking every bit like she did when she was two years old while she’s telling me.
It’s in school starting next week, which means I will once again have my most favorite companions in the world with me for half of my morning commute.
It’s in the fact that tonight, when the passion and the heartache and the wonder of this day is over, I will unmake both the face and the bed that I so carefully made this morning and I will rest.
I will be unmade.
Somehow, that’s inspiring.
Travelin’ On
The last time I saw my grandpa was here in Dallas, four months ago, when his trip here turned much longer than planned after a heart attack. He was 85 years old, completely blind and my grandma had driven him down here to play guitar in a music festival. After the festival, he didn’t feel so great and went straight to the hospital, which turned into a couple surgeries in a couple weeks. When he was released, he stayed a few days with my uncle before he and my grandma made the eleven hour drive back home to Southern Illinois. I went and spent the day with them before they left, playing Scrabble with my grandma by the pool while my grandpa dozed inside in the easy chair. As I was leaving that night, I gently woke him and told him I was leaving. He couldn’t see me, but he spread his arms out and said, “Okay, Hon. I love you. Goodbye.” I hugged and kissed him tenderly, so thankful for the chance to say goodbye. So thankful to have a grandpa who loved me.
The things that could be said about him are numerous. He was a big man, with an even bigger presence. He loved to entertain and he loved to tell stories. He had an opinion on pretty much everything. He was the best guitar player I’ve ever known. He loved his family and he loved to make everyone feel like family. My memories of visiting him always include him standing there expectantly when we walked in the door, his hands in the pockets of the overalls he was always wearing, a silly grin on his face and saying “Where’s that Leslie?” as he waited for me to come hug him. He would say the same thing to each of my kids, (his great-grandkids). He loved to talk (argue) theology with my husband and encourage (argue with) him as he progressed in his studies. He loved to hear my girls sing and encourage them with what sounded good and challenge them with what they needed to work on.
He rests now. His fight is done and his sight is being restored. I believe I’ll see him again someday and he’ll see me too. Last weekend, we traveled up to Illinois to bury him in the little church graveyard down the road from the house in the woods where he lived with my grandma all these years. All three of his children and their spouses were there, all eight of his grandchildren (and spouses of the married ones) were there, and all ten great-grandchildren were there. The bigness of such a moment swallowed me wholly inside of it and I was blessed beyond measure to be a part of it. We said goodbye to his body as it lay amidst the most flowers I have ever seen in once place at one time in my life. My dad and I shared a moment together as we discussed the significance of the flowers being the way things are supposed to be as he has now gone back to the garden. My brothers, my cousin and my mom’s cousins carried his casket to the grave that he and my grandma have had ready for years. The preacher prayed final prayers over him and we cried and we laughed together. Many flowers were left there on the grave and the funeral home brought the rest of them to my grandma’s house that afternoon, where an assembly line formed as we put one beautiful flower arrangement after another on her front porch. The grandkids and great-grandkids all played together in the front yard, some tossing a football, some playing America’s Got Talent, some hiding behind trees and running and making piles of sticks and some spinning delightfully in circles. As the sun set that evening, I went for a walk with Chris down the gravel driveway out to the corn fields. I liked the way our long shadows looked on the road in front of us. And as we came back to the house, we noticed everybody gathered around every car in the driveway, all of them tuned loudly to the live Saturday night show at the Opry, where Vince Gill was playing a tribute to my grandpa.
Here is what we heard.
First, the introduction to the show, talking about my grandpa:
Then Vince Gill, opening the show with my grandpa’s song:
My pretty Grandma
My pretty Mama
The Children
The Grandchildren
The Great-Grandchildren
And after church on Sunday, we all ate at Grandpa’s favorite restaurant
Goodbye, Grandpa. Thank you for such a big legacy. I love you.
And finally, two videos:
The first from 1959, singing his first big hit
And the second from just last year, singing and playing the last song he wrote
Crop Circles, Deadbeat Moms and Zombies
Tonight we went out in the back yard and moved the trampoline because the grass was dead all around it, while a forest was growing underneath it. Apparently the grass in our back yard really likes the only place in all of Dallas that has shade all day long. Seriously, the abundant green grass growing underneath that thing is about a foot tall. It makes for an amusing look now that the trampoline is moved over to the other side of the yard. There is a perfect twelve-foot circle of green lushness in the midst of a dry and barren land. The apple tree is brown and brittle, the ivy covering our trellis dried up weeks ago and withered away and you can’t walk barefoot through most of our yard because each individual blade of grass is like a needle puncturing the bottom of your feet. But we now have our own little perfectly soft and perfectly round crop circle. It calls to me, begging me to do a barefoot rain dance in the middle of it. So I do. It consists of hopping on one foot while spinning in one direction while chanting, “Hi yah yah yah Hi yah yea” and then switching directions.
I’ve been noticing lately that I don’t have time for things like I used to. When I dwell on that, it depresses me. I’ve even had to stop reading a lot of perfectly beautiful blogs that I used to read because they now depress me. Not because there’s anything wrong with them but because they portray lives that are so very different from my own and I find that what I am really longing for is somebody who is like me. I gravitate towards people I can connect with. And when I can’t connect, it’s kind of depressing. And then it starts feeding all sorts of jealousies, self-pities and ugliness. And there’s just no good that can come out of feeding those things and so I just stop reading those blogs.
But I’ve started wondering if everybody else is like me in that. And if so, who reads this blog, I wonder? So far, I have not found another woman working full time in corporate, downtown, glass-walled America with a husband studying to be priest and three mostly teenaged children who also blogs. If anybody knows of her, please point me in her direction. I would like to hear her perspective on life. But if she does rain dances in crop circles in 100 degree weather at 9:30pm, I am not interested. Because that’s weird.
The other day I overheard my daughter ask a friend:
~ Who does the dishes in your family?
~ My mom, mostly.
~ Oh. My mom NEVER does our dishes.
So that’s about how things are now. But at least we’ve reached day 38. Only four more to go. I know we can do it. Come on,Dallas! First the Rangers went to the World Series last year, then we hosted the Super Bowl in an amazingly icy ice storm, then the Mavericks won the whatever-you-call-the-basketball-biggest-game and now we’re about to beat a record not touched since 1980. Could we ask for anything more, really?
I mean, everything is brown and dead and people are walking around like zombies and moms don’t do dishes anymore but it will all be worth it if we can pass 42 straight days of 100 plus temperatures.
Hi yah yah yah Hi yah yea.
Tell Me Can You Feel It
Today was the 31st day in a row over 100 degrees in Dallas. There really isn’t much else to talk about. Except that the record was set in 1980 with 42 days in a row over 100 degrees. The way I see it, if we’ve come this far anyway, we might as well shoot for breaking that record, right? Bring on the heat. We can beat this thing. I know we can.
The truth is that it’s depressing around here these days. It just is. It’s dry and things are dying. Our apple tree joined our peach tree this year. Their spirits have both departed this world. All that’s left is dry sticks, all held together by who-knows-what and sprawled every which way, with a couple little wilted leaves and shriveled one-inch balls of stink still clinging desperately to the splintered branches. Rolling black-outs are bound to start soon with the amount of energy this city is consuming, trying to keep all insides at 65 degrees even though nobody anywhere can get below 80 in the afternoons. Children sit around sulking and picking at one another and parents wonder how in the world they will make it another month before school starts. We are all well aware that August is always hotter than July around here and we cannot fathom what that means for our next 31 days.
We are withering outside and we are stir-crazy inside.
Therefore, I will not speak of the heat. Nor will I speak of how much we long for a good, long, drenching rain. Nor will I remember how I went to a tropical paradise that one time. Because that was a long, long time ago and I can hardly remember it at all anymore.
Instead, I will tell you about how I love listening to audio books while I drive back and forth to work in my air-conditioned car. Right now I am finding the No. 1 Ladies Detective Agency most delightful. And I just had a sip of my husband’s chocolate malt shake. That was nice. And when I got home from work tonight, my two youngest had art supplies and paper spread all over the kitchen table just like when they were little. My fourteen-year old was working so hard on coloring her pretty princess picture that she didn’t notice me come in and I did a double-take because I thought she was my eleven-year old. Her cheeks were puffed out in concentration and the tip of her tongue was showing between her lips. And last week, we got to go to two Rangers games and sit in the front row! And they won both games! And even though it was still 95 degrees at 10:15pm when the fireworks show started, it was the absolute most beautiful feeling. The kind you rarely have in a lifetime. The kind that goes along with baseball and Texas and summer and your little girl catching a ball tossed into the stands and ice cold Coca-Cola and country music playing loudly while the most spectacular fireworks show you’ve ever seen in your life goes on right over your head.
Here are three of us at the first game. My face is happy because I am happy. I was very, very happy in that moment.
Here are another three at the second game. I tell you what. They are cute.
And here they are in one of their many tv moments. Ignore the blond in front with her eyes closed. Notice the cute people behind her.
This is a wonderful summer.
Hawaii
My family just got back from Hawaii where we celebrated with my parents on their 40th anniversary. It was my first time to the islands and I hope it’s not my last. I definitely left a part of my heart there. It is intoxicating. I narrowed my 1000 photos down to 408. I can’t go any lower than that. I just can’t. And now I’m stuck. How can I pick just 20 or so out of 408? It cannot be done. But I shall attempt it now.
The girls at Pearl Harbor on our first and only day in Honolulu
Our first day on the beach on the Big Island (my super-cool, honking rental lens worked out real nice)
Chris even found himself his own little spot, with some nice, light reading
The next day, seven of us drove to the other side of the island for a little adventure
Callie was the cutest little zip-liner ever
Janet was pretty cute too. She laughed so hard after coming off the second one, she had us all crying with laughter.
Okay, we were all pretty cute, come to think of it. Jennie was so scared, she sat as though waiting for her final blessing, while she was really just waiting to get this day over with.
And me, I got scared too. EVERY time I stood on that platform. ALL NINE TIMES at all NINE new locations. My knees shook.
But it was pure awesomeness.
Then we went to this really cool hotel where my mom and brother unfortunately got trampled by some wild horses
We were sad to see them go, but that hotel was wonderful enough to keep us going
Then we took a drive to some cliffs, but stopped first to get iced coffee, which Jennie was REALLY excited about
And of course, we pulled off on the side of the road for Janet to pay tribute to King Kamehameha
When we got to the cliffs, magic happened
The world came together as brothers, as the nice people that lived there left water out for us to drink, with a nice little donation bin next to it
My dad got superhuman strength there too
And we all just basically didn’t breathe while we stood around, really high up.
Sadie got this stunning photo on the way back to our hotel
On Monday, we set out on a snorkel adventure. My cousin’s twin daughters and Grace were ready to go.
Grace’s underwater camera she got for Christmas came in pretty handy
Then we all got ready for the Luau
But alas, it began to rain and the luau was cancelled. But they gave us some lovely rain ponchos.
Some of us drank red stuff while we figured out what to do next
On our walk to the next restaurant, there was a pretty boat at twilight
We found the perfect restaurant, on the water and we all toasted to my parents’ 40 years together
It was a beautiful night
The next day we hung out and wrastled and stuff
And played Dominion (which Callie now has a bad addiction to)
And then made it to our second attempt at a Luau
It was by far, my favorite night of the entire trip. The love flowed.
The prayer in Hawaiian was beautifully sung, while we all held hands
The food was AMAZING
And gasp the sunset
It made beautiful light on everyone’s faces
Oh yes, the love flowed
Did I mention gasp the sunset?
Ending with the hula-dancing, warrior-yelling, fire-throwing show (yes, that’s my nephew’s head right down there in front, mere feet from the fire sticks that kept being thrown around. Gasp again.
And gasp the moon on the way back to our hotel that night
And I know I shouldn’t end this beauty this way, but oh how we laughed for hours in the airport in Honolulu as our flight was delayed for the trip home. Our darling Grace sure knows how to keep the masses entertained. She even had strangers laughing at her.
Her sisters were pretty much crying laughing at her.
What can I say? Did you see my brothers up there? She comes by it honestly.
Thanks again, Mom and Dad, for the trip of a lifetime.
P.S. Did I say 20 or so pictures? Uh, make that 69. I am officially out of control. And now I’m hungry.
