Tuesday, June 23, 2015


I have my arms around the toilet when she says it.
It's cleaning day and my girls are scrubbing with me. Rose complains about this inconvenience to her plans.
I reason, "Rose, do you know how gross it would be if we didn't clean the toilets and the floors?"
She scours the sink and retorts, "I think we are going to think differently about some things in life."
I slow.
Yes, we probably are.

My mom lives next door to me. We think differently about quite a few things.
She's violently enthusiastic and I'm tentative.

This is what a violently enthusiastic person looks like

We hold differing views on lots of things, but we love each other and we know that we are God's good gifts to one another. We help each other, we offer perspective to the other.

This is good. This is the way God intended family to be. Not a collection of Russia stacking dolls, but unique, different, complimentary.

I need to remember this when my children stretch out of my box of comfort. I need to remember I am not trying to raise perfect little me's (which is in itself contradictory). I am trying to raise God loving/serving/fearing men and women who delight in the individuality of who God has made them.

Rosy sleeping with her babies.

Avonlea on Bald Butte overlooking Mt. Hood

Grant loving his dog

Rowan carries everything in his overalls
what I tend to think my children should look like

what my children actually look like
We explored the attic this week. Avonlea found an old dress of mine from high school. Rowan found the vest to my dad's first suit that I used to wear. They wore them. In public. On purpose. And they were completely themselves in them. They used my things as an accessory to themselves.

Someday, I may come across one of my mom's flags and maybe I'll give it a wave. Maybe Rose will decide never to clean her toilets but she'll love to write poetry while taking a bubble bath.

The possibilities are endless. The potential is amazing. Family is a whole lot of fun.

And one more of my babies will leave the nest next week. This is a video of Grant telling about his mission trip. However, he messed up and cracked us both up. This right here is what I will miss for the next 5 weeks. Please remember him in your prayers.

Sunday, June 7, 2015


I would like to tell you that 18 years ago I married my best friend. But that would be a lie.

Eighteen years ago I married a man I BARELY KNEW. Gracious I was young and incredibly trusting.

But it wasn't Dave I trusted in. Somehow, between the time I graduated from high school and married four years later, God took my self-confidence and people confidence and turned it into God confidence.

When Dave and I got engaged, I told him I loved him because God told me to. He looked at me and I learned to keep that type of information to myself.

And when we were first married and I tried on a new swimsuit and asked how I looked and he said, "Great, except for right here," which he accompanied with a point, I looked at him. He learned to keep that kind of information to himself.

So we jolted along over this road called marriage and somehow, somewhere in the journey, I fell in love with my husband. Not just because God told me to. But because when he messed up he was so humble and repentant. And because when I messed up, he was so forgiving and loving. He makes me laugh. He makes me groan. He is always ready and willing to sacrifice for all of us (except for when it comes to the last piece of pizza). He has logged impressive listening hours. He works without complaint, early mornings and sometimes late nights. He stopped whistling because high sounds make me vomit. I could go on.

So on Friday morning, when I asked him how his previous 20 hour work day had been, I shouldn't have been surprised at the information that followed. What surprised me was that it took him an HOUR to get to the good part. He's been married to me for 18 years and he still doesn't know how to separate Headline News from fillers. We need to work on this. Anyway, after an hour of small talk, he told me that he slid into a fast food booth at midnight with a taco salad. He quickly slid back out thinking someone had spilled something, because it felt wet. He looked onto the bench but didn't see any water. Then he felt his pants. Or what was left of them. There were two holes, one from outer thigh to crotch, the other smaller but wider. He had been all over the city in these pants, up ladders, bending down. He had no idea when it had happened he only knew his pants had been strangely comfortable all day.

As this all flashed into his conscious he could only think of one thing. He still needed salsa. So he kept to the walls facing outward (surely you've seen this in movies and can imagine it). This my friends is why I love him. It didn't matter that he'd been traipsing around the city all day, he was modest enough to slide to his salsa.

I'm not sure when he became my best friend. But we grew up together and we learned together to have God confidence and we learned when to keep our mouths shut. And we are still learning and God willing, we will have many more years and many more stories, and much more laughter.

Happy Anniversary! I love being your wife!


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