Why do children have to die?

The past weekend Scott and I went to the upstate to visit with Scott's dad, my father-in-law. We call him Pop. Scott's sister was there too. Sunday was the 2-year anniversary of my mother-in-law's death and Pop wanted his family to be together on that day. Pop wanted Scott to sing in his church on Sunday the song Scott sang at her funeral.

My mother-in-law was on hospice care for nine months before her death, so there was a lot of time to think about her funeral service. Nobody actually did much talking about it, but everyone was thinking about it, and I think everyone must have been thinking something different. Pop was absolutely sure he wanted Scott to sing. Scott was absolutely sure that he would never make it through trying to sing at his mom's funeral without losing it. Scott spent all of those nine months telling me so.

When my mother in law did finally leave us for heaven, not only was Scott grieved, he was also a nervous wreck about the whole singing or not singing business. Pop has always been stubbornly persuasive with Scott. In the end Scott decided it was easier to say yes and struggle through it for Pop than to say no for his own personal relief.

During the funeral and with his agreement beforehand, I spent every minute up until it was time for Scott to sing trying to distract him from what was going on in the service. I guess a better way to say that is that I was trying to help him keep his focus on nothing but singing to help prevent him from losing it. When the time finally came and he got up to sing, a voice came out of him that I had never heard before. And it was beautiful. Scott made the sacrifice and let himself be used of God to bless others. I'm convinced that it was the voice of the Holy Spirit that I heard that day.

So, here we are two years later. Scott did sing that same song in his dad's church on Sunday. Lois was the reason we were all together that day and she was definitely missed, but it was a little easier to celebrate her life this time.

Later that afternoon as we got ready to leave Pop's house to head back home, another funeral procession was underway. Pop's house is right across the street from the cemetery so standing in the driveway, we had front row seats.

We had to wait for the procession to drive by before we could get out on the road. It was unlike anything I've ever seen before. It was Heather Brooke Center's funeral. She was a 8-year old little girl who was shot four times by the estranged husband of her father's girlfriend. It is a sad, sad story (you can read about it here). None of us know the family, but it didn't matter. We were still moved by what we saw.

There were hundreds and hundreds of motorcycles in the processional. One motorcycle even pulled the casket behind it in a carriage. I'm willing to bet that most of those riders didn't know the child either, but they wanted to pay tribute to this special situation.


Scott, who has sung for countless funerals for people ranging from those he didn't even know to his own mother, said, "but it's different when it's a child."

I stood there on the driveway in the sweltering heat. I had a napkin in my hand that I had been using to wipe perspiration off my face. As the cyclists drove by, a time or two I found myself waving my paper hankie at them before I realized what I was doing. Then, I was wiping the tears from my eyes with it. Again, I didn't know the child or anyone in her family.

But it's different when it's a child.

I have two good friends that are close to my age. They don't know each other because they live in different cities and are from different times in my life, but they have something in common besides having me as a friend. Both of these women lost sons to cancer before they ever reached double digits in age. I know that the death of those little boys changed their lives completely and forever.

I never knew Blake or Tyler either. (The anniversary of Tyler's death is this week too.) I didn't meet their moms until after they were gone.

I don't know how Ron & Cindy and Linda & Bobo have managed to beat the odds and stay married in spite of how difficult it must have been.

I don't know how they managed to continue to raise little girls after that, teaching them to love a brother they never really knew.

I just don't know. As I sit here and think about it I just can't imagine what it must be like.

Then I hear a voice in my heart and maybe I understand a little better.

"It's different when it's My child."

And I know it's the voice of God.

For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life. John 3:16

I did and still do

OK. There. It's done, finally.

I've been trying to get that picture posted all week.

I was out of town last week, and couple of days the week before too. Getting back in the swing of things after being away for a while gives me a headache. I want to whine about it because I like the road trips better than I like going to the grocery store and answering the phone at work and sorting laundry and piling up dirty dishes in the sink. Plus, there's a holiday at the end of this week, so nobody really wants to do anything anyway. Including me.

Except that I really, really, really, wanted to show off these roses. It's just taken me a week.

My sweet little husband put these roses in the church last Sunday in honor of our 23rd wedding anniversary. Sunday was actually the date of our anniversary.

Someone asked him at church that day, "At what point did you know it was going to stick?"

His answer: "June 28, 1986."

Good answer, honey. Good answer.

Buying me flowers is not typically something he does. And that's really OK with me. He's the kind of person who doesn't like to see the same scenery twice, so when he does something for a special occassion, chances are he will do something different the next time.

I am so-o-o-o-o not like that. Which is why I love him. He really is everything I am not.

We always do things completely differently. It doesn't matter what it is. If I start something on the right, he starts on the left. If he thinks something needs to go up, I'm looking down for it. I survey my options before I decide and then go, he goes on ahead to see what all the other options are and then decides. He looks at absolutely everything all along the way, I hurry up and get where I'm going and then and only then do I take time to look around. He drives fast and walks slowly. I walk fast and drive slowly.

We do, however, often have the same goal. We just never seem to have the same idea on how to get there.

So, I have no idea exactly how we have managed to stay married and happy for all these years.

But we obviously have had the same goal all along: keeping it stuck.

And it has.

I love you, Scottie.

For this reason a man will leave his father and mother and be united to his wife, and the two will become one flesh. This is a profound mystery—but I am talking about Christ and the church. However, each one of you also must love his wife as he loves himself, and the wife must respect her husband. Ephesians 5:31-33

Oh, my ottoman

Today my friend Linda and I were talking about how when something goes wrong, it is usually not just one something. It often ends up being a whole season of things going wrong. The past month and a half have been that way for me. On top of all the bad news about the economy and all the global distress, my own little world has been spinning way out of my control lately. More than once in the last couple of weeks I have ended up in a snotty bucket of tears just because I couldn't handle one more thing going wrong.

I was so tired of the "What else can go wrong" phase, so tired of the gloom. I needed some relief. Scott has sensed it too and has done a good job at trying to make me laugh.

I think I've mentioned before that Scott has an accelerated propensity for wordsmithing. I mean, he makes up his own words. He has recently come up with a new word for an old piece of furniture. Here's a picture of it.


It currently sits at the foot of our bed. There is a matching chair in the living room, but our bedroom is larger and has more space so that's where it's ended up. It also gets used more in the bedroom. Scott sits on it to put on his shoes and socks. And to take them off. You can see from the picture that it is lower than the bed. The foam cushion on the top is also a little, well, worn. When you sit on it you sink down into it and your knees end up higher than your rear end.

OK, I'll give you a minute to get that picture in your head.

Got it?

Now. That picture is the basis for Scott's new moniker for it.

The Squattoman.

Let me say that again. Squattoman.

Which had me laughing until I was crying. Again.

Blessed are you who hunger now, for you will be satisfied. Blessed are you who weep now, for you will laugh. Blessed are you when men hate you, when they exclude you and insult you and reject your name as evil, because of the Son of Man. Rejoice in that day and leap for joy, because great is your reward in heaven. Luke 6:21-23

What would they say?

I just got back from a funeral. We seem to be surrounded by a lot of that lately. Death, that is. I'm not usually the sad or weepy type at funerals, especially if the one who has passed was a believer in Jesus Christ. I just get homesick for my real home, not this temporary one. It just reminds me that there is eternal hope beyond this life and this crazy world I'm living in right now.

The same thought has plagued me after the two most recent deaths. Selfish as it may be, this was my thought: What did they say about me when they got to heaven and saw Jesus face to face?

Not that I would be their first topic of conversation upon arrival in heaven, mind you. But somewhere after the initial homecoming party when they needed a break from all the singing and dancing and they sat down to chat about all the old home folks. Not that that's even theologically sound, but if it were...what would they say about me to Jesus? What could they say?

Would they tell Jesus that they felt loved by me?

Would they tell Jesus that they knew I loved Him?

Would they tell Jesus that they saw His work in my life?

Would they tell Jesus that they never understood me?

Would they tell Jesus that they wished they had known me better?

Scott sang at the funeral today. The song he sang today, he has sung at countless funerals throughout his ministry. Whenever he sings it, he always gets a few more future requests from others to sing it at their funerals when they go too. If you're preplanning your service, I'm sure he will be happy to add you to the list if you wish.

The lyrics of the song are what I want them to say about me if they see Jesus before I do:

She sings because she's happy, she sings because she's free; she knows Your eye is on the sparrow, and she knows You watch her.

This video is not from the funeral today (actually not a funeral at all); but it's Scott singing the song. I know most of you have probably seen this before, but it's worth watching again.




Indeed, the very hairs of your head are all numbered. Don't be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows. Luke 12:7

The twelfth of never

When we first moved to this little, rural, inconvenient town our thoughts were that we would be doing good if we could stay here five years. After that period of time, we imagined we would be at a good point in our lives age-wise and career-experience wise to then move on to our long term goal of the bigger and better place where we wanted to spend the rest of our lives. We saw this place as the means to that end. A not-so-attractive-but-necessary step to somewhere else. Dues, I guess you could call it.

Plus, these days and for the job my husband has, five years is about the average length to stay in one location. Eight or nine years is exceptional. He’s a minister in a Baptist church.

Yesterday marked his twelfth anniversary here.

Wow. Twelve years. Have we really been here that long?!

How significant is twelve?

Well, there are twelve days of Christmas.

Doughnuts come in dozens. Scott likes doughnuts.

Eggs come in cartons of twelve. Scott likes eggs too, especially when they’re used to make cakes and assorted baked goods. (do you need eggs to make doughnuts?).

The number is used fairly often in the Bible too:

12 sons

12 stones

12 brothers

12 pillars

12 springs of water

12 tribes

12 disciples

12 years of bleeding

12 baskets of food leftovers

Just to name a few. There are more references to 12 cubits, 12 thrones, 12 stars, 12 angels; it goes on and on.

I’m not sure what it means that we have managed to out-last our plans for ths place. Some days I’ve felt the stones and the bleeding. Some days have brought bountiful leftovers and life flowing like cool springs of water. None of it was planned, at least not by us anyway.

God brought us here. He’s the one that has kept us here too. We certainly couldn’t and wouldn’t have done it on our own. So, I’m not really making any more plans conerning the next twelve years. I’m leaving that up to God. I’ll stay until He says go. We are, after all, less than an hour from the nearest Dunkin Donuts. A dozen of those every now and then will help sweeten the wait. I don't think there will be twelve basketfuls leftover, though.

“For I know the plans I have for you," declares the LORD, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.” Jeremiah 29:11

Those look like comfortable shoes

Most people who have spent any time my husband would most likely classify him as a good listener. And he is. He has great stamina to be quiet and listen to people who want and need to talk. Many times I go on ahead to the car and take a nap or read several chapters in a book while I wait for him to finish listening to someone else. He is not a conversation closer. He always waits for the other person to finish everything they need to say.

Really, I wish I could be more like that.

What most people don’t know about him is that he can also be quite the chatty cathy. That’s typically his role when we have lunch together. The things he says and the topics he talks about often make me laugh, so he is usually my entertainment too. I always tell him that going back to work after having such a lunch with him is the hardest part of the day.

Yesterday I sat across the lunch table from him and he didn’t say much. I thought he seemed a little blue about something.

Finally, I said to him, “So, do you feel like you are standing right on the edge of something drastic and horrible happening and that the next step will be into the abyss and there will be disaster and pain and suffering and the end of the and life as we know it?”

He looked at me funny and said, “No, not really, Why?”

Well because that’s the way I have felt for the last couple of days.

I think it started with the mortgage crisis all that stock dropping. Then there was that business of family members in crisis staying at my house. And a cold, rainy, grey trip to the beach. Oh, and all that change that came with the presidential election. And all the other personal change that I’ve been praying for for years that hasn’t come yet. Not to mention the budget debate at church, where Scott’s paycheck comes from. It is actually the low attendance that’s causing part of that problem, but the lack of people is even more disheartening than the lack of money. My 401K statement that came in the mail yesterday seemed to mock me by saying the last 10 years have been somewhat of a waste, revealing the total investment figure to be currently reduced to what is was back in 1997. Plus, hormones. Enough said.

And those are just the highlights. Or I guess I should say, the lowlights.

Like I said, I had been living under that black cloud for a couple of days. Finally saying it out loud gave me a headache. By the time 5 o’clock came I could hardly wait to get home and put on some comfortable shoes, because everyone knows that is the surefire cure for a tension headache.

My life is not really all that bad. I have much, much, much to be thankful for and very little to truly complain about. Except maybe those pinching heels I wore yesterday.

Ahh, which was my own bad choice, wasn’t it?

Hmmm, maybe that would apply to my attitude about some of those other things too.

No worries today. I’m wearing low heels, it’s time for lunch, and I’ve got a date with a good listener.

I pour out my complaint before him; before him I tell my trouble. When my spirit grows faint within me, it is you who know my way. Psalm 142: 2-3

A lot can change in a year

Last year was Oooooooo, VERY scary......

I don't think I've ever laughed so hard as I did over my husband as the Burger King.

Until this year. This year, he had enough courage to leave his face unmasked.

You can't see it but clutched in his right hand is a remote control which operated....sound effects.

It was such a hoot! Or maybe I should say, a toot.

Enjoy today.

Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be terrified; do not be discouraged, for the LORD your God will be with you wherever you go. Joshua 1:9

Will you adopt me?

The first seventeen verses of the entire New Testament outline Jesus’ genealogy. It begins with Abraham and lists all the fathers and sons all the way down to Joseph, “the husband of Mary, of whom was born Jesus, who is called Christ.” Curious thing, though, because it is Joseph’s bloodline that is chronicled. There was not a drop of Joseph’s DNA flowing in Jesus' human veins.

Joseph was Jesus’ adoptive father. Joseph made the choice to be Jesus’ earthly father. Even though he knew there was no way he could even compare to Jesus’ “real” father, Joseph still chose that relationship.

Which also means, for a time here on earth, Jesus was an adopted son. That is kind of a strange thought, isn’t it? But, it is a statement on what God thinks about adoption. God was willing to put Jesus up for adoption by a family here on earth, which eventually made way for you and I to be adopted into His family in heaven.

Adoption is all about choice.

He chose to do it. For everyone of us. There are no orphans of God.

The next choice is ours.

Adoption is on my mind because today is Scott’s adoption birthday. His mom and dad chose him when he was just 29 days old. Just think of all the lives (i.e., everyone that Scott has ever known) that have been touched and affected because of that choice. I know mine has been.

As a child, they always celebrated his adoption birthday with cake, just like his biological birthday. His parents wanted him to know that his adoption birthday was just as important and meant just as much.

I made strawberry cupcakes for the occasion.



For he chose us in him before the creation of the world to be holy and blameless in his sight. In love he predestined us to be adopted as his sons through Jesus Christ, in accordance with his pleasure and will—to the praise of his glorious grace, which he has freely given us in the One he loves. Ephesians 1:4-6

On more grey hair for me

I'm really kind of a plain jane when it comes to sweets, so my very favorite kind of cake is just plain pound cake. My husband made me one for my birthday. Yes, from scratch.

It went in the oven Sunday afternoon when I went out to a rehearsal. When I got home and opened the front door, oh, the wonderful smell that I walked into. If I breathe deeply I can almost still smell it. Ahhhhh. Mmmmmm.

My birthday wasn't until the next day, so we waited to cut the cake. Of course, the first thing I put in my mouth on the morning of my birthday was a big hunk of that cake. Cake for breakfast. Yummy. Even after we cut it, I still couldn't get over the delicious smell. Close my eyes. Inhale. Ahhhh.

Not only did it smell good, it was oh, so, tasty.

And there were cards. We like lots of cards.

Again, my husband knows me so well. The card in the picture that mentions happy hour is a reference to my new found love of the hours of 2-4 PM at Sonic when a 44 ounce Diet Coke is only $1. Sometimes it is unsweet tea, but usually I stick with the Diet Coke. It's that ice that makes it so good.

My surprise was this cute little Willow Tree figurine holding a book. If you could see the stack on my nightstand, you would know this IS me. Oh, and the gift bag with hearts on it. That's me too.

Later that day, Scott called me to tell me he had cancelled his rehearsal that was scheduled for that night so we could go out to dinner. Which we did.

And then I did a little shopping at Kohl's. I spent less than $50 and got two sweaters and one pair of pants. Wooohooo. It met my "under $20" per item rule, so I didn't have to stress over it. I just bought it 'cause it was my birthday!

All of that to say, my husband has been paying attention. He treated me like it was my special day and he knew exactly what to do to make me smile.

I'm still smiling.

Never leave your partner behind, especially in a fire

My husband is always on the lookout for what's new and what's next. He's never been one to dwell in the past or celebrate the history of anything too much. He's always looking ahead. He has a spirit of adventure that keeps him on a quest for the next new thing. He's always looking for fun.

If he were a rich man with lots of free time there would be no stopping him. However, since his money and time are in limited supply, it really makes both of us a little giddy when he comes across something for free.

Last night we got to reap the benefits of his adventurous pursuits. We were able to see a preview screening of the movie Fireproof. For free. (Yay!) The movie will not be in theatres until Sept. 26.

Fireproof is made by the same people who made the movies Flywheel and Facing the Giants. If you don't know about those movies, they were made by Sherwood Baptist Church in Albany, Georgia. Incredible. Each of the three movies that they have produced is better than the one before. They just keep getting better and better.

The story in Fireproof is current. The setting is a situation that could be, and most likely is, happening in any one of our homes right now. It's about relationships. And how Jesus makes the difference.

Just go see it. You need to see it. Mark your calendar for Sept. 26.

Take your husband, your wife, your mom and dad. You'll be glad you did.



But you, dear friends, build yourselves up in your most holy faith and pray in the Holy Spirit. Keep yourselves in God's love as you wait for the mercy of our Lord Jesus Christ to bring you to eternal life. Be merciful to those who doubt; snatch others from the fire and save them; to others show mercy, mixed with fear—hating even the clothing stained by corrupted flesh. To him who is able to keep you from falling and to present you before his glorious presence without fault and with great joy— to the only God our Savior be glory, majesty, power and authority, through Jesus Christ our Lord, before all ages, now and forevermore! Amen Jude 1:20-25

We don't get out much, but we sure do love it when we do

Highlights from our anniversary trip to the big city:

1. When we first entered our third floor hotel room, Scott went to the window and opened the curtains. He proclaimed that we had indeed arrived in heaven. I went to the window to see what on earth led him to such a revelation. Right there in perfect sight from our hotel window was the biggest Best Buy store sign ever.

2. Right next door to our hotel was a Sweet Tomatoes restaurant. Now I know it’s not fancy schmancy dining, but oh how I love salad. Especially when there is celery and purple cabbage. It’s very hard to find a salad or a salad bar that offers celery these days. Yum, yum, crunch, crunch. I love celery. Thank you Sweet Tomatoes. I made Scott eat there before we walked over to Best Buy. We have a great give and take relationship, you know.

3. All the Queen Anne’s lace growing wild on the interstate byways. Beautiful. We don’t have that around here and I miss it.

4. In the small, rural town we live in, the closest thing we get to anyone with a foreign accent is the local Mexican restaurant. Being in the big city and almost always within earshot of a language or accent other than our every day Southern English made me feel a little more connected to the rest of the world. It was as if, for a couple of days anyway, I was not secluded in the little town that is two weeks from everywhere.

5. The Apple computer store and all the smart little children who work there. Amazing. Children, mere children! And smart ones too. Aren’t there child labor laws or something out there? Just kidding….but I wouldn’t be surprised, though, if they didn’t even pay these kids. They seemed to love it so much they would do probably do it for free. Oh, child, teach me to be like you!

There was so much more, but those are the top 5.

Twenty-two years down, now working on #23 and wherever that takes us.

You will be blessed in the city and blessed in the country.
Deuteronomy 28:3

Yes, bliss and blisters

My husband and I are leaving tomorrow (Thursday) for a little weekend mini vacation. Our wedding anniversary is Saturday. Twenty-two years. Wow. I keep telling him that’s longer than I’ve ever done anything else in my entire life.

This past weekend I was looking at some pictures from those early years. I said out loud, “We look so-o-o-o-o young!” And then I began thinking to myself, being so young, how in the world did we know what we were doing?

Truth is, I don’t think we really had a clue.

But God knew. God knew we would get to this point of twenty-two years full of wedded bliss and blisters. It has taken both toughness and tenderness to hold us together.

Yes, God knew. And He is probably smiling right now about what He knows about the next twenty two years. I can hardly wait. :-)


See y’all next week.


If you have any encouragement from being united with Christ, if any comfort from his love, if any fellowship with the Spirit, if any tenderness and compassion, then make my joy complete by being like-minded, having the same love, being one in spirit and purpose. Philippians 2:1-2

Once upon a time...

Rebecca’s second wedding anniversary is this week. She’s celebrating by sharing on her blog the story of how she met her husband. She’s invited and inspired others to share theirs too, so here is mine. Once Upon a time…

One of the first jobs I had after graduating from college was as flight attendant for a commuter airline. My home base changed with the tourist traffic, so during the winter months I lived I in Florida, at home with my parents. During the summer months I lived in Cape Cod, Massachusetts with a house full of other flight attendants.

After spending the summer months in New England, I returned to Florida just after Labor Day. The very next Sunday I went to church and learned they had hired a new staff member while I was away. Scott was the new Minister of Music and Youth. He was fresh out of seminary and this was his first full time ministry position.

There were a few other singles at the church, most of whom I knew quite well having grown up with them. In a brief conversation with one of the girls, I gathered that she was interested in Scott. I put my matchmaking skills to work.

The Trivial Pursuit board game was really popular then, so I set out to set up a social game. I don’t really remember how it actually came about, but it wasn’t long before several of us ended up at Scott’s apartment (he was the only one with his own apartment at the time) to answer stupid questions and fill our game pieces with colored pie wedges. The ulterior motive of the game night was to get Scott and the other girl some face time somewhere other than church.

At one point in the game, one person went to the bathroom, one went out to their car to get something, one went to use the phone, one went to the kitchen to get a drink. Everyone had stepped away from the game board for one reason or another. Everyone, that is, except Scott and I. He didn’t waste any time. While it was just the two of us, he asked me out to dinner.

I was a little stunned and totally not expecting that from him. After all, I was there to fix him up with someone else. I think my response was something like, “Where did that come from?”

I did eventually agree to go to dinner with him. It was early in the week when I agreed and we set the date for the following weekend. Apparently Scott was having difficulty waiting until the weekend because by Wednesday he asked me to go out for dessert and coffee. I am not that fond of apple pie or coffee, but I went.

We dated for a couple of months. Scott got anxious again and it wasn’t long before he said to me, “I want you to be my wife.”

I told him that was nice. As far as I could tell, that was not a question.

Thus began a lifetime of learning to communicate in a whole new way. Me, learning to hear what he meant instead of what he actually said. Him, learning patience as he waits through my long pauses as I take inordinate amounts of time to formulate into words what is really going on in my head.

After some coaching, he did actually offer a proposal in the form of a question.

It took some convincing for me. It’s that hesitation thing I do. Being one who has difficulty jumping right in, my answer was, “I can’t say no.”

He says it was love at first sight for him. He’s like that. When he sees something that hits the spot, he’s never satisfied with anything else.

That was in September. The wedding was the following June.

That was over 20 years ago.

It has been, and still is, a wild and crazy ride with all kinds of ups and downs. The one thing I know for sure now after 20 years of marriage is that there will never be another. This is it and I'm going to hang on to it as tightly as I can. And that is not just because of my commitment to Scott, but my commitment to Jesus. Following His directions is what has held us together for so long.

Wives, understand and support your husbands in ways that show your support for Christ. The husband provides leadership to his wife the way Christ does to his church, not by domineering but by cherishing. So just as the church submits to Christ as he exercises such leadership, wives should likewise submit to their husbands. Ephesians 5:22-24

Got anything good to eat in there?

My husband and I are complete opposites.

He’s always sweating. I’m always shivering.

He’s spontaneous and jumps right in. I have to ruminate first and I prefer having a plan before I do anything, even if the plan changes.

Our tastes for food are completely different. He says puh-tay-toes. I say poe-tah-toes. Actually, it’s more like he calls ‘em taters and if they’re fried I just say no thank you.

When we get older we will never be one of the little old couples that goes out to a restaurant to eat and orders only one entrée and an extra plate. Yes, two entrees may be too much food and too much money for a couple of senior citizens, but it’s either that or one of us will go hungry. We just don’t like the same foods.

Because we live in a very small town and it only takes five minutes to get anywhere, we usually eat lunch together. People ask me if I have lunch with him every day and I always tell them, “Only when I don’t have any better offers.” So, pretty much, we eat lunch together every day.

Earlier this week he was out of town for the day so I was on my own for lunch. It was a perfect opportunity for me to get broccoli and white rice take-out from China Wok or a grilled chicken Caesar salad from McDonalds. Scott would never even entertain the thought of either one of those.

So, what did I do?

I was at home standing at the kitchen counter making my lunch when the phone rang. It was Scott. He asked me if I was making a salad (which consisted of opening a plastic bag, of course) with leftover turkey on it for my lunch. Why, yes, yes, I was.

Scott knew I would go home for lunch, he knew what time I would be there, and he knew exactly what I was going to eat. I am so predictable. He knows it all too well.

I think that’s why God put us together. God knew my boring, predictable ways and my dominating common sense nature would lack adventure and challenge. He knew my bland bag-o-salad and leftover turkey ruts would need a spicy distraction every now and then. Scott is king of that distraction domain and always manages to open my eyes, or my mind, or my mouth to something new and tasty. It’s nourishment that encourages me to grow and I’m thankful for it.

Taste and see that the Lord is good; blessed is the man who takes refuge in him. Psalm 34:8

Us As Biscuits

Something I read or heard recently stirred my brain to think of a particular word. I could remember a little bit of what the word meant. I had the concept and the idea of it; I just couldn’t remember the word itself. It drives me crazy when that happens.

So, I went searching. It didn't take long to find it: Anthropomorphism. It’s a sophisticated, intellectual sounding word, isn’t it? Right up there with onomatopoeia (another word I came across in my searching; you know what it is, you just can’t remember what it’s called).

Anthropomorphism is when you assign human characteristics to something that is not human. Like the mouth of the river or the angry storm clouds. Cartoon animals that talk are also an example. Some of the definitions I found went further in the explanation to say that it is often associated with a deity. In other words, we don’t really know what God looks like so we describe and understand Him in our own familiar human terms. I haven't ever visibly seen God's hands but I can relate how He's touched my life with them.

I was glad to have the mystery solved of the word that was temporarily lost from my vocabulary, but then I had another mental dilemma. What is the opposite of anthropomorphism? What do you call it when we describe humans as something inanimate or non-human? I do it all the time. I call my husband Honey. If someone’s afraid to do something I call them Chicken. There are also Weasels, Bull Dogs, Baby Dolls, Sweetie Pies, it goes on and on.

So, how did I ever get on this subject in the first place? Well, let me show you….
This is a Valentine card my husband gave me.

He dreams of me. He dreams of biscuits. He makes me laugh everyday because he is Nuts.

A man can do nothing better than to eat and drink and find satisfaction in his work. This too, I see, is from the hand of God, for without him, who can eat or find enjoyment?
Ecclesiastes 2:24-25

Third Time's a Charm

This week is a marker for us.

This second week of February six years ago (2002), my husband looked like this (he looks like a baseball, doesn't he?) :

It started with repeated, nasty sinus infections. Then the headaches. Several appointments and scans later, he was scheduled for sinus surgery and a craniotomy to remove something growing in his head that didn't belong. It was one of those bizarre things. No one could explain any cause or reason. The surgeries seemed to be successful and his recovery went very well.

Then, three years later (2005), again the second week in February, he looked like this. (He looks like an alien in this one):

The growth had returned and he faced another craniotomy. This one was...rough. But afterwards the doctors seemed quite confidant this had solved the problem for good.

So here we are in the second week in February again at the next three year increment. And look at him today. No baseballs or aliens this year. I love those laughing eyes.

We can't help but reflect on this three year marker and thank God that it's different this time.

See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it? I am making a way in the desert and streams in the wasteland.

Isaiah 43:19