Today is Valentine's Day and this is a special holiday for me in general. Although I don't think people should be forced to show affection to each other because of one specific day, I do love the idea of showing people how much we love them. It is mostly special, because my grandparents were married on this day 61 years ago. They have always been an example of love to me. My grandfather cherishes my grandmother and my grandmother is devoted to him. Their example of steadfast love has been a vivid reminder of what love is about.
And this Valentine's Day is one where this reminder is especially strong. I am reminded that love in all of its glory and romance and goodness is also about pain. Love means taking a part of yourself and giving it to someone else. Love means attaching your happiness with another's so that their joy is your joy and their pain is your pain.
My grandparents are spending this anniversary in the hospital where my grandfather is clinging to life. As we sit in the small waiting room, I realize what a gift love is. It is because of love that we weep and ache and are so drained. It is love that draws us to the dark waiting room. It is love that wakes us from our sleep and in our own sicknesses brings us to this place. It is love that causes us to have this pain. It is 61 years of devotion and building a life together that causes my grandma to struggle with contemplating a life without him. It is this life they have built that has led to four children devoted to their parents and nine grandchildren and 4 great-grandchildren and numerous in-laws and church family - all who love and all who ache.
So is this love worth it? By all means! It is this love that we share that allows us to hold each other up in our shared grief. It is love that has given us so many great memories and made us the people we are today.
We love my grandpa. We love him so much and we want him continue sharing his love with us. The part that gives me hope is that God loves him more. As we weep, God weeps. Each tear He holds in His capable hands. God loves us and loves my grandpa and unlike us, God is powerful to effect change. God has a plan and loves us.
So here is my valentine's challenge. Tell people that you love them. Tell them now, tell them why. Be specific, be genuine. Do it again tomorrow, and forever. Don't let a day pass without the people you love knowing that you love them. Surround them with it so there's never a doubt. And even when that love causes pain, for whatever reason, it will be there firmly planted. Love is never without pain, but pain can be endured with love.
Saturday, February 14, 2009
Thursday, February 5, 2009
The Mendelssohn Effect
I was home alone the other night. I don't do well with that. I am an extrovert in the truest sense. I can sit and do nothing. I can be still and be quiet. I just want someone else there doing that with me. I hate being alone for extended periods of time - especially when I don't have a project to complete.
So I was sitting at home trying to watch pointless TV (my favorite kind) and I was feeling down. I was thinking about all the things wrong in the world (this is what I do when I'm home alone) and I was starting to get to a bad place. I shook myself, figuratively, and said, "You are an independent and free woman. You have a free night, so spend it as a free woman should. Go out and do something. Go alone. Have fun!" I listened to myself and changed my clothes. I didn't look particularly cute, but I didn't look like I had just come from my dark room with my thirty cats, either. I decided to go to Barnes and Noble (one of my two 'happy places') and either spend my gift certificate or just browse. I like to get lost in the shelves and feel the books. I like to see the Cheesy Christian Romance Novel section and realize that I've read every book in it. I like to calculate the percent of the books I've read on the 'classics' table (is that double nerdy or triple?).
I felt like an independent woman and I congratulated myself for my positive courage. I got in my car feeling strong and ready to face the world. My radio came on and the beginning of Mendelssohn's Wedding March from Midsummer Night's Dream came trumpeting through my speakers. I laughed so hard I had to stop driving. Courage came crashing down as I continued driving. "Laugh it off, you can blog about it."
I made it to Barnesy and I started perusing. I went to the teen fiction section and avoided the temptation to talk to strange teens about book choices (I do this a lot. I have in fact recommended the Twilight and Uglies series to several kids that I didn't know). I wandered through Christian fiction (I did call my daddy just to hear a friendly voice). I heard an author talk about how he got into writing as I looked at the math section. But as I exited my safe harbors, I discovered that Valentine's day had struck a magic decorating stick on the rest of the specialty tables. The cooking section was all about pink hearts and cooking for two. The movie section was classic love stories and music for the mood. The children's section had kiddie versions of Corduroy's Valentine's day and the all time classic, "I'll love you forever." A woman opened a book and it played music - that's right, Mendelssohn's Wedding March!
I decided to check out my cousin's picture of her cake that was recently published in a prominent magazine...a wedding magazine. I picked up the Knot and decided not to buy it. After an hour of meandering, I decided to drive home. I felt good about my night of independence. I shopped alone and made a fun night out of it. I am woman, hear me laugh heartily at Mendelssohn.
So I was sitting at home trying to watch pointless TV (my favorite kind) and I was feeling down. I was thinking about all the things wrong in the world (this is what I do when I'm home alone) and I was starting to get to a bad place. I shook myself, figuratively, and said, "You are an independent and free woman. You have a free night, so spend it as a free woman should. Go out and do something. Go alone. Have fun!" I listened to myself and changed my clothes. I didn't look particularly cute, but I didn't look like I had just come from my dark room with my thirty cats, either. I decided to go to Barnes and Noble (one of my two 'happy places') and either spend my gift certificate or just browse. I like to get lost in the shelves and feel the books. I like to see the Cheesy Christian Romance Novel section and realize that I've read every book in it. I like to calculate the percent of the books I've read on the 'classics' table (is that double nerdy or triple?).
I felt like an independent woman and I congratulated myself for my positive courage. I got in my car feeling strong and ready to face the world. My radio came on and the beginning of Mendelssohn's Wedding March from Midsummer Night's Dream came trumpeting through my speakers. I laughed so hard I had to stop driving. Courage came crashing down as I continued driving. "Laugh it off, you can blog about it."
I made it to Barnesy and I started perusing. I went to the teen fiction section and avoided the temptation to talk to strange teens about book choices (I do this a lot. I have in fact recommended the Twilight and Uglies series to several kids that I didn't know). I wandered through Christian fiction (I did call my daddy just to hear a friendly voice). I heard an author talk about how he got into writing as I looked at the math section. But as I exited my safe harbors, I discovered that Valentine's day had struck a magic decorating stick on the rest of the specialty tables. The cooking section was all about pink hearts and cooking for two. The movie section was classic love stories and music for the mood. The children's section had kiddie versions of Corduroy's Valentine's day and the all time classic, "I'll love you forever." A woman opened a book and it played music - that's right, Mendelssohn's Wedding March!
I decided to check out my cousin's picture of her cake that was recently published in a prominent magazine...a wedding magazine. I picked up the Knot and decided not to buy it. After an hour of meandering, I decided to drive home. I felt good about my night of independence. I shopped alone and made a fun night out of it. I am woman, hear me laugh heartily at Mendelssohn.
Girlish, churlish, screams
or how I went from being "one of the guys" to the girliest of girls.
I grew up with only brothers and only boy cousins. I was and am a tomboy princess, as my sister-in-law likes to call me. I learned that crying was for wimps and nothing really hurts as much as someone else could make it hurt. My brothers would tell me to stop crying after they hit me or did something mean by saying, "Wonderwoman wouldn't cry." And I agreed and toughened up. I learned to be strong.
If I did girly things like squeal or get grossed out by snot or farts or licked fingers in my ear, it would only get worse. I learned to tough it out. I also learned that the only way to be included was to participate in boy things. I did yard work and construction and car repairs and boxing matches and video games and paint ball and I blended in. I was still a girly girl (pink hockey socks), but I was one of the guys.
Last Saturday, we had a great day at the Kellar's house. They are a couple at our church who are going to sell their house and needed some help doing some landscaping...major landscaping. We're talking tree removal and dumpster filling work. I was there early and left late. I was right there with the boys pulling weeds, working electrical trimmers (which I gladly handed over), climbing into the dumpsters again and again and again to dump the trash can of leaves and debris. I jumped out of the way from a falling limb and landed in a cactus. Did I complain? No. A little blood and scratches add character. I got pricked through the glove with a thorn that bled a lot. I sucked on the blood and moved on. We had work to do.
Near lunchtime, I helped my uncle move a table from the back yard to the front. We lifted together and I walked backward. There was no question of, "Can Brenda handle that heavy lifting?" I just grabbed it and we went. I looked over my shoulder as we were exiting the gate and I noticed a giant black widow crawling on my sleeve. Without thought or hesitation, I dropped the table, danced over to my other uncle and screamed, "Get it off, get it off...please!" I turned to him and he swiped at my shoulder a couple times and let it hit the ground. "I got it." "Thanks," I calmly responded and I picked up the end of the table to resume my walk.
Yesterday, while going through my sweaters in my closet, I decided to take everything off the top shelf to find a sweater I had misplaced. Somehow, that disturbed a resident that I did not know we had, a small mouse. I saw it from the corner of my eye as it scampered under my bed. I gasped (did not scream) and jumped on my bed. I giggled at myself, but I still couldn't move. "Julie, there's a mouse in my room!" I screamed to my roommate. She had an equal amount of girlish fear. I set traps which have yet to be visited by the new house guest, but I have to dispose of the potential dead bodies and I feel a visceral sense of dread.
When did I become such a girl?
I grew up with only brothers and only boy cousins. I was and am a tomboy princess, as my sister-in-law likes to call me. I learned that crying was for wimps and nothing really hurts as much as someone else could make it hurt. My brothers would tell me to stop crying after they hit me or did something mean by saying, "Wonderwoman wouldn't cry." And I agreed and toughened up. I learned to be strong.
If I did girly things like squeal or get grossed out by snot or farts or licked fingers in my ear, it would only get worse. I learned to tough it out. I also learned that the only way to be included was to participate in boy things. I did yard work and construction and car repairs and boxing matches and video games and paint ball and I blended in. I was still a girly girl (pink hockey socks), but I was one of the guys.
Last Saturday, we had a great day at the Kellar's house. They are a couple at our church who are going to sell their house and needed some help doing some landscaping...major landscaping. We're talking tree removal and dumpster filling work. I was there early and left late. I was right there with the boys pulling weeds, working electrical trimmers (which I gladly handed over), climbing into the dumpsters again and again and again to dump the trash can of leaves and debris. I jumped out of the way from a falling limb and landed in a cactus. Did I complain? No. A little blood and scratches add character. I got pricked through the glove with a thorn that bled a lot. I sucked on the blood and moved on. We had work to do.
Near lunchtime, I helped my uncle move a table from the back yard to the front. We lifted together and I walked backward. There was no question of, "Can Brenda handle that heavy lifting?" I just grabbed it and we went. I looked over my shoulder as we were exiting the gate and I noticed a giant black widow crawling on my sleeve. Without thought or hesitation, I dropped the table, danced over to my other uncle and screamed, "Get it off, get it off...please!" I turned to him and he swiped at my shoulder a couple times and let it hit the ground. "I got it." "Thanks," I calmly responded and I picked up the end of the table to resume my walk.
Yesterday, while going through my sweaters in my closet, I decided to take everything off the top shelf to find a sweater I had misplaced. Somehow, that disturbed a resident that I did not know we had, a small mouse. I saw it from the corner of my eye as it scampered under my bed. I gasped (did not scream) and jumped on my bed. I giggled at myself, but I still couldn't move. "Julie, there's a mouse in my room!" I screamed to my roommate. She had an equal amount of girlish fear. I set traps which have yet to be visited by the new house guest, but I have to dispose of the potential dead bodies and I feel a visceral sense of dread.
When did I become such a girl?
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