Unrepeatable Gifts - Wedding Memories

The day we prayed for had come.  A crystal blue sky casually decorated with fluffs of white was our backdrop.  Warm sunshine displayed its rays upon the ruffles and folds of Harveston Lake.  Busy hands and happy hearts scurried about the freshly cut lawn and brick adorned patio, making sure every well planned detail was in place.  Previously, a day of final assignments and check lists filled the time.  Center pieces, decorations, food arrangements, table settings, time lines, ceremony practice, ribbons, doilies, lace, white and blush pink roses, and a seemingly endless record of particulars were attended to by loving family and generous friends.  At this moment, my anxiousness had turned to contentment as my eyes absorbed the view.  All was in place.  Guests were seated.  It was time.  Kaitlin was getting married.

The gifts of this day began months ago.  Stumbling upon a wedding dress shop in San Diego, we nearly left without a purchase until I braved the room with the more “expensive” dresses.  Upon entering, I spotted it almost immediately; champaign colored satin covered in fine cream lace, fitted for a tiny frame with a keyhole back, rhinestone adorned bodice, delicate neckline, and flowing train.  It met every expectation perfectly.  Her eyes grew large and hopeful.  Trying it on was a pleasure.  Among the approving chatter of the ladies in the room, Kaitlin quietly blurted, “I want this one.”  Collectively, we sighed.  My eyes misted as sweet confirmation sealed my heart and hers.  The price didn't matter.  This was her dress.

Now, seeing her at the back of the aisle beautifully poised between her stunning brothers in dress military uniform, my heart must have skipped a beat.  I could not have been more proud of my children at any other time in history than that very moment.  How my sons had lovingly prepared for this occasion, planned ahead, got their uniforms ready with medals of honor, compared their achievements in lighthearted banter between the two of them, and honorably stepped into the role of father of the bride, gave me every reason on earth and in heaven to be the happiest mom on earth.  I was, simply and profoundly, happy.  Kaitlin was gorgeous and shining with her girlish smile, looking forward to her dream ahead, walking confidently, arm in arm, between two men she fully admired.  Adorning her bouquet was a charm with a vintage picture of her daddy.  Brion was there, walking with Kaitlin down the aisle.  Who gives this woman to be married to this man?  And, her brothers together proudly proclaimed, “Her mother and we do.” 

While listening to the ceremony’s promises, watching my beautiful daughter-in-laws generously support Kaitlin’s wishes, a best friend attending to every move of the dress, my cute-as-can-be granddaughter holding her basket of rose petals, musing over the handsome and whimsical smile of my new son-in-law, and relishing in the bride’s free spirited reactions, a firm gloved hand took mine in his.  My oldest.  I was taking it all in, and it was overwhelmingly perfect.  But, of course, my man was definitely missing.  Yet, everything and everyone was incredibly grand.  I gazed at Nic’s face; he gently smiled.  I looked over at Ben seated next to him.  My boys.  Brion’s boys.  Brion’s legacy of kindness, gentleness, integrity, and love for God and family demonstrated and lived out that very moment through his sons and daughter.  The firm grip around my tentative fingers spoke calm and security to my soul.  Love was seated next to me.  Peace was tangible.  How could a heart be so full?  Mine was overflowing.   Gratitude spilled from the depths.  Only God could discern this heart’s reservoir.  Nic’s hand was God’s, Brion’s, and his own, all in one.  

 

The ending of the lovely ceremony ushered in the beginning of the lively celebration.  Mexican food, a family favorite, was prepared.  Pearl dotted cupcakes with delectable fillings were carefully placed upon doilies and stacked books.  Burgundy and cream lace held vintage books, gorgeous flowers filled mason jars, and candles twinkled behind rhinestones and lace.   Guest’s chatter gave way to memories of the bride and groom so the tables could be released to eat.  Ben stood as the spokesman for his table and shared of the surprise it was to see his sister married now, when it seemed not long ago Katy was the little girl he and Nic  use to stuff into a suitcase for fun.  The laughter turned to tears when Ben, with choked emotion, admitted the struggle of not having dad among us.  Ben’s passion blessed his family.  His voice needed to be heard.  There could not have been a dry eye in the house.  Everyone knew.  Brokenness clung to each of Brion’s family’s hearts this day, yet we triumphantly celebrated. 

My turn was near for my address and toast for the new couple.  While I had been thinking about what to say, certainly uncharacteristic of me, I hadn’t prepared notes.  My heart spilled the record of what I felt at that moment.  My exact words, I can’t even recall, but my message was love.  Earlier that morning, a friend had texted me a beautiful picture of what this day held, here on earth, in heaven, and for the future.  I conveyed some of her thoughts in what I said.  Brion had already gone before us and saw this special day when he entered heaven’s gates as he no longer saw in part but saw fully God’s plans for his family being fulfilled.  God whispers that He has Kaitlin in the palm of His hands and that His plans for her are beyond my wildest imaginations.  God vows to come alongside her and bring them to pass himself.  I shared how proud I was of Kaitlin and how proud I know her daddy would be.  I honored Ryan for his obvious true love for our daughter and his acceptance of me as part of his family.  Confidently and by God’s grace, I placed Kaitlin in Ryan’s care, and then extended my hand and asked, “Kaitlin, would you dance with me?”

Gasps filled the room in response.  Kaitlin smiled, stood, and gladly accepted.   We glided onto the dance floor.  Each of us embarrassed at our lack of eloquent skills, danced as if it didn’t matter.  I brought her close and told her I loved her.  I twirled her around like a princess at the ball.  My eyes were fixed on her beauty, innocence, and joy that very moment.  No one else was in the room, until a handsome young Army drummer took my place and finished our dance.  Nicolas and Kaitlin completed the moment, arm in arm, with Nic leading and Kaitlin following.  Beaming, I sat down.  This day held countless treasures for me, moments etched across my heart forever.  We had done it.  Brion and I saw this day take place, together.  Our two perspectives were unique, but we are one and shared every moment.  Tears fill my eyes as I write.  How thankful I am for every good gift God has given me. And, at times, they break my heart.  

February will forever be a wonderful month!  Thirty-five years ago, a first celebration took place on February 23, 1980. The girls wore pale green, my favorite color, with wreaths of daisies upon their heads.  The guys dressed in brown tuxes, and Brion sported the standard of the times, white tails.  My dress had a pleated skirt and flowed with small delicate, lacy flowers as a trim.  A veil hid my nervousness, the bouquet held white roses and daisies, and my dad proudly walked me down the aisle to my future.  Brion and I shared our vows of love for one another in the presence of family and friends. We were very young, yet certainly meant to be together.   

I had no idea that day what struggles and heartaches were in my future.  As well, I could have never imagined how our love would grow and become one of the greatest earthly treasures I embrace today.  Three wonderful children, two added daughters and a son who are perfect for our family, and soon-to-be five beautiful grandchildren are the results of those long ago seeds planted in love’s rich soil.  A life of serving our Lord Jesus will forever be the honor and crowning glory of our union.  My wedding gift, then and now, is two lives made one, graced with more than thirty years of joy, tears, struggle, and tremendous love.  What a beautiful, sweet memory of long ago.  I welcome the new treasured memory of just a couple weeks past.  Love truly is forever. 

Thank you, Father, for the good gifts you lavish upon your children.  This February, mine are treasured memories that time cannot erase.  Decorating my heart forever, they remind me of your faithfulness and inseparable love, that you are the promise maker and the promise keeper.  My family is so precious to me, but even more so to you.  My own wedding day will never be forgotten, and Kaitlin’s wedding will always be a special gift to me.  I never dreamed there would be so many details of life that would mean so much, but you did.  These unrepeatable gifts will shine forever in my heart as blessings from a Father to his daughter.  Thank you, Father, for holding my heart in your capable, strong hands.  I love you so.

What I Love to Do that Feeds My Soul

My thoughts run deep and wide.  Often times they tarry too long, especially when rehashing a situation or conversation that has gone wrong.  I've learned that I thrive on conclusions.  Thinking brings some, but others remain evasive.  However, one dwelling conclusion that sustains my soul daily is the faithfulness of God’s abiding presence in my life.  I truly believe that God, my loving Father, is as close to me as my very breath.  I picture this.  On a lonely night, tearfully preparing a lovely meal for me and the Lord, I set out candles and used my good dishes.  I sensed His pleasure in my offering and acceptance of my breaking heart.  We ate together.  I saw Him with me, embracing my tears of loss, wiping them away in His perfect love.  I've envisioned God sitting right beside me on the edge of my bed, listening, singing songs of comfort and truth, when pain kept me from sleeping.  Jogging outside in the warm sunshine, I picture Him running alongside me smiling, and I’m not afraid.  For me, understanding God’s presence in this way brings immense security and trust.  Sure, I forget He’s always present at times, but my mind’s eye is in training to forever capture my moments from this perspective.  My conversations seem to flourish all day long with the Lord, from one topic to the next.  I can say anything to a God who loves me and is present.  He loves me.  He’s here.  Always.  My soul is sustained in His presence.

There’s power in creation!  The Creator’s perfect handiwork speaks of His majesty, authority, and beauty.  To be still at the ocean’s edge simply gazing across the border-less expanse encourages me.  If my God can unite the moon and earth, sand and creatures, water and mind-boggling creativity within, He can care for me.  He can use me.  He will love me.  I feel stronger breathing in His grace when rejoicing in what He has made.  My granddaughter questioned what the fluffy ball on the end of a dandelion stem was.  I explained, asked her to pluck it from the ground, and blow.  She giggled as the tiny seeds scattered in the air.  I watched each little fluff tumble forward with her sweet voice in the background.  A treasured scene to be remembered.  The intricacy of creation is spectacular!  The laughter from this innocent child in that moment was priceless.  Time spent away from my regular routine of life breaks the stress mold.  The meticulous details of nature command my attention instead, and I’m reassured that my control is not what matters, but God’s.  My soul is inspired resting in the glorious decoration of nature.

When I’m stagnant, I’m deflated and sadness creeps in.  Give me an opportunity to learn, dig deeper, and grow, I’m alive!  My principle of life revolves around God’s Truth.  Studying brings new hope and revelation to my soul.  Writing brings clarity.  Sharing breeds testimony and stories to tell.  Empathy releases me to encourage and inspire.  Hearing prepares me to teach.  And, in each of these opportunities, my soul is nurtured and crawls a little bit closer to the God who longs for me.  My soul is nourished when I grow in His powerful, everlasting Word. 

I couldn't breathe without God’s presence, time in His creation, or feeding from His Word.  Yet, there’s a playful side of me that requires surprises, spontaneity, adventures, and plain old fun.  Allowing my new kitten to curl up on my lap and sleep while I’m sitting in my favorite chair brings a comforting rest to my heart.  Risking my healthy eating habits and delighting in ice cream for dinner occasionally, makes me smile.  Taking a spontaneous drive to an unknown destination gets me excited for what may lie ahead.  Hugs from the grand children, reading them books, taking them on a walk and discussing God’s amazing beauty in the pink hued sunset captures my heart like nothing else.  My soul is supported when the spiritual essentials in life intertwine with the joyous, fun activities and blessings in a simple day.

Living day to day, dependent upon God and content in the simple things of life, is what feeds my soul.  I am blessed to be alive and continuously full by a living God who feeds me well.  



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Surrender

A year of surrender is my heart’s desire for 2015.  My prayer is to surrender to God’s assignments for me, surrender to the strengths and abilities He has created within me, and surrender daily to live for heaven. 

I never truly know what a day may hold for me.  Undoubtedly, there will be times of contentment where joy is the natural expression of the moment.  When the grandchildren spend the night, when resting near a cozy fire in the fireplace and my heart is warmed, or when completing a needed task, joy abounds and surrender is simple.  Also true, will be the need to surrender to paths of resistance when control must be forfeited.  When grief strikes my soul, when frustrations fill the work place, or when disappointment floods my thoughts, surrender seems illusive yet necessary. 

Elisabeth Elliot said of her coming days facing dementia, “From acceptance comes peace.”  Where contentment and resistance reside, a Father of grace and love dwells.  I cannot accept one and deny the other.   Victories and struggles are the outcomes of God’s assignments for me.  And, His Presence on the journey means everything.  “Show me your ways, Lord, teach me your paths.  Guide me in your truth and teach me, for you are God my Savior, and my hope is in you all day long” (Psalm 25:4-5).  In the surrender, peace will be found.

“In the morning, Lord, You hear my voice; in the morning I lay my requests before You and wait expectantly” (Psalm 5:3).   May the first thought of my day be centered upon my praise to You, Father, the One who loves me.  Help me lay my requests before You, waiting expectantly for Your grace to fill my moments and be my strength.  In joy or in peril, I surrender the appointed purposes of my day to You.

I am a gift and treasure!  When the Father created me, He thoughtfully shaped me to display His glory on this earth.  This is my purpose!  Even though I’m a cracked vessel, God meticulously mends each broken place, needy corner, and glaring hole in the beautiful expanse of redeeming purpose.  He, who formed me in my mother’s womb, knows me for eternity and thinks of me more than I can imagine.  He has gifted me with abilities and strengths, not to wield for my agenda but to expense for His divine purposes so that He is made famous.  What an incredible honor and responsibility!  This past year, I’ve grown to a place of contentment in my journey as a widow.    I’ve discovered a passionate Laurie with dreams and goals and desires.  I’ve learned through pain that purpose is born and flourishes.  I am a testimony that God makes something beautiful from ashes.  I must declare His glory!  How?  Through my strengths created in me for such a time as this.

“ . . . it is the nature of [You, Father] to speak, to communicate [Your] thoughts to [me]”  (The Pursuit of God by A.W. Tozer).  May I listen to Your resounding voice of instruction through Your Word to me.  My strengths of encouragement and teaching, dwelling in thought, empathy, and achieving goals are not tools to be ignored.  They are to be embraced and fostered.  Through Your Word and by Your Spirit, teach me, use me, challenge me, exhaust me and fill me with You each new day.

Heaven.  My home.  I picture heaven constantly.  Loved ones reside there!  It is my home of hope.  I know I fail to even come close, but I try to imagine peace eternal, contentment, rest, and amazing conversations! Will I be able to relate to the warriors of faith or will I be in awe of their legacy once again as they tell of their stories?  What would be the conversation with David about wrestling the lion?  A perfect setting would be to listen to his stories while lying in a cool pasture resting upon the belly of a lion slowly breathing, purring in hushed rhythm.  True peace is unimaginable from this earthly perspective, but one day it will be my reality.  What I experience on this earth is just a foretaste of glory divine, a sampling, and a corrupted sampling at that.  Heaven is perfect in every sense of the word.  There is no one like God Who rides on the heavens and clouds in His majesty (Deuteronomy 33:26)!  All power and dominion belong to Him!  Heaven is a place I want to see.  This is a place that will be my home.  This is a place I long for.

Only the Father knows the number of my days upon this earth.  Until the adventures of heaven come to light, life on earth beckons me to continue pursuing God.  Esther embraced her purpose for “such a time as this” and rescued God’s people from death (Esther 4:14).  Joseph’s journey was riddled with mistreatment and undeserving drama, only to one day be God’s amazing instrument of preservation and hope for his people.  Because of Jesus, each day I am given is my opportunity to thrive with purpose because God’s assignments and heaven are waiting.  All of earth will pass away one day, but all the people I touch and all the goals I accomplish for God’s glory will remain.  My childish picture of what heaven may be is incomplete, but eventually, its true view will become my reality.  I’ll be home, gloriously home.

Until then . . . Father may “Every assignment [be] measured and controlled for my eternal good.  As I accept the given portion other options are canceled.  Decisions become much easier, directions clearer, and hence my heart becomes inexpressibly quieter . . . A quiet heart is content with what God gives.”  Elisabeth Elliot, Keep a Quiet Heart. With a quiet heart, help me to embrace the joy and struggle in each new day, utilize my giftings and grow my strengths for Your purposes, and may the glorious view ahead of me always be heaven.  My days are Yours, Father.  Today and every day may I rest with open hands to have you fill them with Your dreams for me.

Surrender. 

My First Race to Remember

Today I ran my first race, a 5K.  I wasn't too proud of my ambitions until I found where I parked my car after the race!  At that point, I was ecstatic!

I've been "training" for this run for several months as a new jogger. Truthfully, I've never enjoyed running.  Then it hit me one day that I was starting to like getting outside and pursuing a goal, so I found a race to keep me motivated.  Soon, I was sick for a couple of weeks, the weather turned pretty cold in the morning, and the evenings were getting dark earlier.  I struggled to get in my time on the pavement, but I kept plugging away.  The race was coming up.

New running shoes were a prized purchase, as well as fashionable and form-fitting ear buds.  I was gifted a runner's fanny pack for my keys and phone, gladly a much slimmer version than what I remember from the 80's. With all my new gear ready to go, I picked up my number and T-shirt, scouted out the unfamiliar territory (in the dark), and drove home excited.

While coming close to the race area bright and early this morning, I was diverted along the route to a designated parking lot, as the roads were coned off for the run.  Eagerly, I parked, bolted from the car to join the mass of people heading toward the entrance.  Obediently, I followed, never looking back.

At the starting line, I felt completely out of place.  Fumbling with my worship music, trying to figure out where to line up as they announced the slower runners to position behind the more experienced and able,  I finally found posters with estimated finishing times.  Ah!  I was in the last grouping.  No fear though.  No shame either.  I'm here to do this thing!

Finally, we herd forward and are off.  It didn't take long for people to pass me.  Even dads with children not even old enough to be in the double digits were passing me.  Then up ahead I noticed an elderly man carrying two American flags, one in each hand, and I thought, "There's my marker.  Stay up with him."  So, I did.  He was probably 30 years my senior.  Not sure that was an elaborate goal.

In the end, I completed the race in mediocre time, a smidgen ahead of the elderly warrior.  He was an icon for many as they cheered him along the way.  Hearing the encouragement directed toward him, encouraged me, as well.  Traveling slow and steady, both of us found the finish line.  My first race was complete.

I walked immediately past the welcoming crowd, grabbed my water, and headed toward what I assumed was the direction of my car.  I kept walking.  Nothing looked familiar, but I reasoned that I didn't know my surroundings because I just followed the crowd when I arrived.  Then it started to rain.  I stopped to look at my phone and get some direction, but I couldn't remember any landmarks that could help.  Meanwhile, a friend texted me, so I asked for prayer support.  I was getting nervous. It also didn't help that I left my glasses in the car.  Geeze.  Nothing like feeling handicapped!  After several walks in endless circles, I went back toward the finish line and found a policewoman to ask for help.  She asked me the right questions to try and puzzle piece me back to my car.  It worked!  An hour later, I found her!  By that time, I was soaked, cold, and my legs were weary.  I had traveled a 10K distance for a 5K race.  The sight of my car was never so sweet.  Next stop . . . Starbucks!

Finally home sitting by a fire with my comfy blanket across my lap, I'm so grateful for God's presence.  On the drive to the race, the sunrise was glorious and there was a rainbow perched in the sky for miles.  The rainbow, a symbol of God's promise and faithfulness, guided my heart as I began the day.  Everything ahead seemed wonderful!  I worshiped with excitement and joy for the ability to complete a goal. However, the wandering to find my car was a challenge.  What I just finished had been quickly forgotten with my present struggle.  Being lost in the rain in an unfamiliar city was not fun.  It wasn't part of the goal either.  But, God was with me.  I prayed as I walked.  I listened to His voice.  I asked for help.  I finally made it!

Life's race is an amazing goal.  Our finish line is heaven and its immense beauty and comfort is more than we can ever imagine!  Blessedly, along the way in this life, we'll experience joy, excitement, and disappointments.  As we worship in the refreshing morning sunshine, take in God's promises, and fumble through the gloomy, rain-drizzled afternoons, we must purpose to keep the goal in view. Pray, listen, and run your race.

I'm glad I stepped out to do something different.  The race was good for me.  But, the next time, I'll bring a friend along for support and direction back to my car.  It's been a good day, as all days are, because God is with me as I run alongside Him on the journey.