Wednesday, August 17, 2011

how we became us.



I called him that night, Friday. The cold gray walls of the dorm hall were easy to resist, and When I asked him if he wanted to hang out

he did.

We hopped into his red Nissan with the rottweiler plates and he asked me if I wanted to drive. And I lurched and stalled it so many times that we traded seats. He may have laughed at me--yes, I am sure he did.

My lack of experience was a novelty.

Up the hills we went overlooking the City of Trees, the air cold and crisp, and lighted by Christmas. And when we reached the tip-top of the highest hill away from every street lamp around, we teetered at the edge, and our eyes spotted a sort of road. The narrow beams of the headlights offered us little to view.

"Let's go for it--"

down the roller coaster of clay-mud away from the perils of studying for finals, the threat of cardboard pizza, stale coffee and the quietness of an all-girls floor the week before testing. Over the frozen cold and steep down while engine lost power and kept going....only to

p
l
u
n
g
e

to
a

stop

at the dark bottom of--what--? we couldn't see anything except gray shapes of unfamiliar.
The road was not a road at all, but a trap instead. Other auto-victims had been here before, of that we could tell. He told me to stay put and he dug out with his shovel. Because, you see, he is my "McGyver",

never without a life-saving device.

Fervent digging became pointless. The Nissan called out to offer his wench. But the wench sighed, shoulders drooped with disappointment, because sagebrush offers no leverage. But of course--what is sagebrush? When you have lived your whole life in Washington State,

there is no reason to know such things.

Darkness was heavy and fingers were numb but we were kids with no weight on our shoulders, and getting stranded in the hills was no big thing. Especially when you get to wear a warm coat that smells like him, and get to hold hands that experience

first-love spark.

But like I said, it was no big thing. Even when the tow truck resigned, and the tractor said, "no way", and finally, for all our his measly college savings, the truck was set free by the CAT and the driver of the red Nissan with rottweiler plates warned. But of course this was nothing M&W white powdered donuts and orange juice couldn't fix

(because remember, we were kids, still).

But what I recall most was that we drove up the hill as friends, and came down as a glimmer more. And 3 years later, on bended knee, a promise was made on the same hill of foolishness. But this time, instead of foolishness, a proclamation of devotion and friendship.

And yes, love.

Our family looks quite different these days, as our "two" is now "five" and what a loud house we have become. We've spent time on the top of the hill, but life has brought unexpected blows and we have found ourselves at the bottom, with all the mud and mire and prayer knees.

And still I can say that I like the way his jacket smells.

And if I had to choose a different path, I wouldn't. I would again get back into that Nissan truck with him. He, who has offered me 14 years of wedded enjoyment and the gift of sacred faithfulness. He who has injected fun and frivolity into my bent towards structure. He who has given me three beautiful daughters.

I give you my heart, again, my loving husband.

Thanking God today for my husband, for hills AND valleys, and a happy anniversary to us.




Thursday, August 11, 2011

She Is



She Is--
By Jen Wieber

Who is this fair child, gifted to me?

She is

carefree, she is lovely
like fresh rain from heaven.

silly girl, so wily
like pillow fight parties

a mountain-high ice cream
commanding and winsome

She is beautiful to me.

She is

a summer thunderstorm
so warm and consuming

like cold raging waters
naturally refreshing

A thousand buttercups
to gather and adore

And she is daughter to me.

She is

indulgent caretaker
sure and compassionate

a bright moonflower
giver of words and rune

like grandma's old hymnal
full of worship and praise
She is a blessing to me.

(My youngest little gal, Reesie, turns 2 today! Happy Birthday, Honey Pie! )


Wednesday, August 10, 2011

Reese




She changed my life one day. I don't remember the calendar page, or what I had for breakfast that morning. But I'll never forget the words that suddenly spewed from my heart, through my hand, and onto paper. She was only a faint stir within my womb.

A joyful baby, I wrote of her and because of her. Paper and pen by my pillow and scribbles in the middle of the night. She is the giver of words and the encourager of heart thoughts.

She--with her exact ideas and her arms full of dollies and a whole list of foods she wants--now.

She--with her second birthday in two night's sleep and her notion that the world is full of friends just for her.

She--who doesn't miss a beat and loves riding in the grocery cart fashioned as a speed-car.

She is my beloved daughter.

Happy Birthday, sweet Reese.


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