No One Special

"You must be crazy."

"I could never do that."

"How do you teach the hard stuff?"

"That's a lot for you; you much be a pretty special mom."

"Mine are learning Russian at their school."

"Our school is teaching them to design their own program language and invent a website."

"Mine are in the Honors Program with all AP classes."

      If ever I felt unqualified to start our 11th year of homeschooling, it is now. Back to School time.  Everyone in a pre-school excitement.  Pulling school lists at Walmart.  Picking out new lunchboxes and backpacks.  New clothes.  Finding out who teachers are.  Open houses and orientations. New schedules posted and matching classes with friends.  Inevitably I run into one friend or another  in Walmart and lately the conversations always turn to the first day of school.  Most know we homeschool but as the years tick on, more frequently the question from well meaning school choosing friends is, "Are you still going to homeschool?"  In my brain I hear, "Are you subjecting yourself to the crazy yet again?"  The self doubt not audible to them, the conversation continues and ends up with the excitement of all that is piled in their carts wheeling away.

    This will officially be the first year I am dragging my feet since starting Kindergarten with Logan.  What seemed overwhelming with him 10 years ago has creeped back into my brain as we step off on our 11th year of "crazy."  I will have a 10th grader, a 7th/8th grader (that's another whole blog and issue all together), a 5th grader, and a 3rd grader.  As brown boxes began arriving at my door step last week~I told you I was dragging my feet~I could feel the weight of the new school year almost as if with each delivery, the boxes were being stored on my shoulders.  I couldn't even bring myself to open the one that arrived on Saturday...our biggest by far.  Even with the kids excitement, I used the excuse of wanting to save them all until Monday.  I couldn't bear the thought of the sight of Chemistry, Algebra 2, cursive workbooks, Physical Science, and fractions staring back at me.  Not now.  Not with two days left of summer.  

   Our summer has been wonderful; busy, but wonderful.  Logan and Cole played baseball all summer and we got to travel with Logan and spend quality time with just him.  We made great friends with his new baseball family and strengthened old ones with Cole's.  We enjoyed the pool, friends, bowling, lazy mornings, late evenings, and play dates.  We had so much fun with VBS this year, camping, and sometimes just doing nothing.  I got lazy with my to do list and figured out suppers on a whim.  We ate pizza by the pool and Sunset Slush on warm summer nights.  I was Mom.  I had time to play games, make homemade cookies, pick up friends, and have sleepovers.  Homemade pizzas and homemade ice cream.  I try new recipes and new restaurants.  Sure I had to clean, laundry~always~, cook and plan meals, but that's it.  I wasn't grading papers or doing lesson plans.  I wasn't editing a book report or fussing over missed assignments.  No tests were given, no deadlines for papers, and no mandatory reading.  I corrected grammar but only half-heartedly and never with a pen.  I can do Mom.  I enjoy Mom.  I know how to do Mom.  It makes me happy.  It's my comfort zone.

    Starting the school year means I am no longer just Mom.  I'm back to being Teacher.  I make assignments and check them.  I introduce and enforce.  I test, I quiz, I check.  I answer questions.  I point out mistakes.  I assist, tutor, explain.  I at times become the bad guy and I don't want to be the bad guy.  I cry over long days, I sigh with relief when long division is mastered, I smile at a good test grade.  I hide in my closet for quiet, I stop answering phones, I get frustrated, I get tired.  My days are long.  My days are fast.  I don't have enough time to squeeze it all in.  I make slice n bake cookies and frozen pizzas.  Trips to the pool are a memory and we start the busy~ness of our school year.  I am thankful to have the freedom to homeschool and I truly feel this is what God has called us to do...again this year...and that may change one year.  It won't be this year.  So.  I press on.  I will choose to dwell on what is good and in the knowledge that what He has called me to do, He will see me through.  But see. I'm no one special.  I have doubts about teaching the "hard stuff."  I do, at times, think I am crazy.  But I am in the trenches like every other back to school mom.  

Rearview Mirror Faith

I watched him walk away in my rearview mirror.  Hot tears were streaming down my cheeks as I pulled away.  I was finding myself at a point where I was no longer in control of every little thing in my son's life.  I found I was more of a spectator, a prayer warrior, in the life of this young man walking away from my car.  But I wasn't liking that in this moment.  I wanted everything to be in a neat box.  My neat box.    

How did we get to this point?  Why does it just seem like yesterday he was 18 months old playing with a pumpkin on my sidewalk?

Everything in me knew I had to pull away and everything in me wanted to go back and get him. He was starting his second day of baseball conditioning with the local high school.  Knowing no one.  He had been nervous pulling up and that made me more.  As I pulled out of the parking lot of Battery Creek High School suddenly the music seemed so loud and my desperation seemed to overcome me.  I turned off the music and instead of turning right I pulled the steering wheel quickly left to head to the back side of the field hoping on one hand to see a quick peek of him and on the other hand praying no one would see me.  As I drove slowly past the field, the chain link fence was covered with a green tarp and even in the small tear in center field, without my glasses and the players congregated in the dug out, they all looked the same to me.  I had no choice but to drive home.  

The tears flowed freely again.  In the silence, the only sound was my sobs.  

God.  I need you to be with him.  You know.  You see him and I can't.  Please.  Please be right there with him.  Like you were last year.  Like you were when he needed a friend moving to Beaufort.  Like when you drew him close when his Daddy deployed.  He needs you.  I need you to be with him.  I need you.

Slowly, my silent heart prayer became audible. Talking out loud I poured out my heart as the sobs came.  It felt good to share my doubts and I knew He was listening.

I guess I blinked.  Everyone warned me.  But I must have blinked. 

The time, that seemed to have moved so quickly, in that moment in the parking lot really hadn't been moving that quickly at all.  But it was as if, snapshots over the past few months made me realize that he was a young man right before my eyes.  

I first noticed it a few weeks back.  It wasn't until trading seats stopped on the side of the road one day did I really take  notice.  My Logan was no longer a boy.  He was a man.  And my heart skipped a beat.  

We occasionally stop before the entrance to our neighborhood to switch seats and let him finish the short, uneventful drive home.  He has been driving the golf cart around the neighborhood for years, the jeep on the deer lease for even longer, and G-Paw's jeep on a dirt track last year.  I figured, a quick half a mile in our neighborhood is the easiest of all by far.  We had been talking quite a bit about the safety and laws of driving.  He's been figuring out mirrors and pedals and his mother's comfort zone.  I remember one conversation as I was driving one day.

"What's the rearview mirror for?  Seems silly."

"Even though you need to keep your eyes forward, it's good to check your rearview mirror every now and then."

Along all of those quick trips, it wasn't until one day I looked over at his hands holding the steering wheel.  They looked just like Patrick's.  They were huge.  Long fingers.  Steady.  Sure.  It wasn't that small hand that used to grab mine.  It wasn't the small hand that would reach out to hand me things.  Or the one that pushed his Hot Wheels along.  Or even the ones that just a year before had built Legos for hours.  He had the hands of the man. And in that moment, I realized he was closer to being a grown man than he was my little boy.  In that moment watching his hands drive home, I missed my little boy.  

I didn't think of those hands again until I watched him walk away in the rearview mirror.  It was that very question about the rearview mirror God brought to mind and that I pondered on that day as I drove home.  

In all of the unknowns of what lies ahead for him, what he heading toward, and the things he will face, God flooded my mind with sweet memories of my first born son.  Precious memories.  Times where it was just the two of us pushing through a long deployment. Then, two. Then, six.  Memories of the three of us at our first homecoming. The six of us at his last.  Memories of trips taken.  Talks had.  Prayers shared.  I was looking behind to God's faithfulness.  God’s rearview mirror.  I was remembering His works of old.  In that moment, He was overwhelming me with His provision, His presence, His love.  God was always telling His people, the Israelites, not to forget.  To remember.  To look back on His faithfulness and be encouraged when the unknown was ahead.  In that suburban, just my Father and I, He spoke to my heart, quieted my sobs, and calmed my anxious thoughts.  He was right there.  I know it. He was so real in that car.  As I drove, I talked and I shared with Him my fears and doubts, and yet, it was as if He kept turning my thoughts to my spiritual rearview mirror, saying, 

Look my child.  Look at my faithfulness.  Remember.  I love him. And I love you. I have loved you with an everlasting love.  And him.  

Holy hindsight.  It was His gift to me that day. I was loved.  He was almost audible, so much so I kept wanting to look over at the seat next to me.  He was so close, I knew He was there.

"...but your own eyes have seen all the great work of the Lord which He did." Deuteronomy 11:7  

I talked.  He listened.  He spoke to my soul.  I listened.  I cried more.  But my heart was calmed.  He calmed me by showing me His rearview mirror.  Showing me where I've been.  Where He brought me.  And Who had been there.  

"When I remember You on my bed, I meditate on You in the night watches, For you have been my help, and in the shadow of Your wings I sing for joy.  My soul clings to You; Your right hand upholds me."

Psalm 63:6-8 

As I pulled into the garage and the door shut,  I sat in silence for what seemed like an eternity.  In quiet.  But my heart was full.  I remembered.  He reminded me.  He was right there.  My days with my growing children may not get easier, they will look different as I move forward with each of them, and I do still have a lot of mothering left.  But I will have my rearview mirror faith.  And I will check it.  I will remember. 

"I don't need to know where I'm going, I just need to know where I've been."

~Mater from Cars

41 Random Thoughts

Today I turn 41 and I am so thankful to be 41.  I am not scared, embarrassed, or nervous about being 41.  My days are numbered and I see each one as another opportunity to glorify God, apologize, fix my wrongs, make steps forward, love my family, serve those whom God puts in my path, make a difference in the lives of those God crosses my path with, and grow in my relationship with my heavenly Father and those around me.  Overnight I have come to realize I am an older woman God speaks of in Titus 2.  I am not the oldest woman but I am definitely not the youngest.  I am still learning.  Yet I can encourage.  A wise woman once told me that I would always be an older woman to my girls and I have enjoyed encouraging them but I now also know that as I move in and out of seasons of my mothering, I am not to neglect those coming behind me.  Sitting here on my birthday, I have 41 random thoughts.

#41~Pizza is always better with an ice cold Coke.  Not Coke Zero.  Not Diet Coke. Not Cherry Coke.  And definitely NOT Pepsi.  There it's off my chest.

#40~Babies won't always be babies.  Be with them while they are.  Love them.  Hold them.  Sing to them.  They won't always be up in the middle of the night.  Try to treasure those moments.  Pray for them when you feel like you don't have an ounce left.  Funny how a prayer to the Creator of life, can put just enough fuel in the tank to take the next moment with patience.

#39~An hour run in the dark is better than just one more hour of sleep.  I never regret a run but I have always regretted trading one for sleep.

#38~Having a teenage son is a great thing.  It doesn't have to be an "Oh you just wait" kind of time.  Do your teaching and training way before he has to look down at you to look at you and it can be a joy.

#37~As a piggy back to number #38....even when you think you have disciplined your toddler for the same thing 15 times in one day.....discipline your toddler for the same thing 15 times in one day if that is what is needed for him to learn.  It's ok to say, "I love you but you may not behave this way."  Don't ever stop teaching and training.

#36~Even when you don't feel like you are, be a brick wall.  Say it out loud.  Your kids need you to be a brick wall and one day they may thank you for it.

#35~Don't count to three.  Take care of their behavior before you say 1.  Cars don't care if you are only on number 2 when they run over a runaway child in the street, fire is as hot on 1 as it will be on 3, a knife is just as sharp on 1, and a pool is just as deep.  If your child can obey by "2 1/2...you better come here," they can obey the first time.  Teach your children first time obedience.  Your requests don't always have the luxury of waiting until 3.

#34~Get up with your husband to see him off to work.  No one likes to walk around a dark quiet house.

#33~On that note, smile at him when he walks in the door...and a genuine one at that.  It's amazing what a smile conveys...even if your day has been hard.  Chances are...his was hard too.

#32~Clean feet before getting into bed makes you sleep better...a whole bath is better but at the very least, the feet.  Not sure if this is a proven fact, but I can not go to bed with dirty feet.

#31~I bleed maroon.  Texas A&M is my favorite place on earth.

#30~The sound of a jet spooling up can make me cry.

#29~There's not much sweeter than a child's prayer.

#28~When you do have to discipline your children, make sure you always tell them you are only doing it because you care about the young man/woman they become.  Say, "I love you too much to let you behave this way."  The Bible says that a parent that doesn't discipline, hates their child.  I want them to know, they are my job.  It is my job to teach and train them.

#27~It's my job to work myself out of a job.

#26~When your sons do something helpful or kind, tell them how much one day their wife will love and appreciate them when they do that.

#25~Teach your girls that a lady never purposely draws attention to herself.. in the way she dresses, acts, talks, etc.

#24~Teach your girls to make kissing knees when they sit down, to have self-control, and to speak like a lady.  Never buy them a dress that they can't sit like a lady...even if they are sitting like a lady.

#23~Sometimes a bowl of "fun cereal" at night is the perfect end to a hard day.

#22~Teach your boys and girls how to clean a bathroom, make a simple meal, do laundry.

#21~Boys should hold doors open for girls, older people, ....and generally anyone.

#20~Children should look adults in their eyes when they are speaking to them and should not interrupt an adult conversation.  You don't have to teach them yes ma'am and no sirs, but please teach them not to say, "Yea."

#19~I love to see red-faced, sweaty boys working in yards to earn summer money.  It teaches them responsibility and not to shy away from hard work.

#18~Home should be a child's safe place to land...and your man's.

#17~Baseball games and dance recitals are more fun to watch if you see your own sweet faces up there.

#16~My love and appreciation for my mother grows with every passing day and moment.

#15~Coffee is God's gift to my mornings. Even better coffee and my Bible on my front porch in the fall.  I love it.

#14~My marriage was instantly sweeter, stronger, and more fun once I learned that every thought in my head doesn't have to come out of my mouth.  I'm busy teaching my 14 year old the same thing.

#13~I secretly love my June Bug.  Thanks to my little sister Megan.

#12~A run is so much more fun with your oldest sister.

#11~God has blessed me with four best friends in my life (not counting my sisters or hubby)....one when I was 6, one my sophomore year at A&M, one when we started TBS and one in our first squadron.  One has passed away, one forgave me for a stupid choice of mine in high school and our friendship is stronger because of it, one walked me through every moment of college, and one just gets me, still.  I don't talk to any of them near enough but when we do, it's like we never missed a day.

#10~I love making cookies.

#9~Yellow cake and chocolate frosting can only truly be enjoyed with your three sisters.  Just once in your life, lick the frosting out of the tub in the parking lot of the grocery store.  Don't tell anyone.  Watch their faces when they go to frost the cake. I love my three sisters. Each of them for such different reasons.

#8~As soon as your eyes open in the morning, praise and thank God for allowing another day to begin.  No matter what you face that day.  No day is promised but everyday is a gift.

#7~Read bedtime stories to your kids.  Even when they're 14.  The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe is so much more fun enjoyed together.

#6~Being late is one of my biggest pet peeves.

#5~For that matter, so are mean people.

#4~I have learned the hard way some people will not forgive.  As far as it depends on me, I am at peace with everyone I know; it took me years to do that but I have.  I have apologized, asked for forgiveness, and waited.  I can't control then what they do beyond that.

#3~My life is sweeter by the 5 people God has placed in my home.  I love my four kids.  I truly LIKE my husband.  My house has laughter and fun.  It's not always perfect and we have our moments, but my life is sweet.  And I am thankful.

#2~I am a blood-bought, born again child of God.  Jesus Christ is my life.  I want that statement to be true of my thoughts, words, and actions every day.  At the end of my life, I hope that is what they say about me....oh and that I loved my husband and loved my kids.

#1~I am joyful.  In my heart, I am joyful.  Today, I am thankful to be 41.

Jitter's Purpose

Jitter Bug

January 2012-August 2013

"But WHY did she have to die, Mom?"

The questions had been coming since Jitter's passing Friday night.  The conversations had been easy, sweet, and comforting.  There were many hugs, lots of tears, and funny stories.  Who knew a small, Chinese dwarf hamster could have meant so much to a 9 year old little girl.  

We said goodbye to Jitter Bug Friday night.  After discovering a large tumor under her chin on Thursday, watching her suffer through the night and next day, her passing was a relief in many ways.  But it still did not make it easy for a little girl who had loved this hamster.  

God is good though and the conversations that followed were sweet.  We talked so much about death, our fallen world, our sin, our faith in Jesus Christ, and heaven.  We pondered on how it must have been in the garden and how God never intended for this kind of death and suffering to be a part of His Creation and how it would all be right again in Heaven.  All of these questions of the "why," of Jitter's death were so easy for me to answer. 

It wasn't until the "what" question, did she cause me to sit and ponder.

"What was Jitter's purpose Mom?  If everything has a purpose, what was hers?" 

I had never really bonded with Jitter.  She was too much like a rodent and she nibbled on fingers in her first few weeks of being a Fitzgerald.  I knew I was done with her then.  Lillie Grace had asked for a hamster for several months and when her 8th birthday rolled around, her Daddy knew exactly what to get her.  Enter Jitter Bug Fitzgerald.  At first, she was a novelty and all four kids loved her, played with her, and were fascinated by her.  One by one though the newness wore off, for everyone except Lil.  She loved Jitter and would play with her for hours.  She loved to put her in her ball and watch her roll outside in the grass.  She made obstacle courses for her to run through and she knew her favorite treats such as grapes and cucumbers.  It was her responsibility to clean her cage each week, check her food and water, and make sure she had time outside of her cage to play.  Lillie took her job very seriously.  She never failed to remember when a week had passed, she played with her daily, and talked to her constantly.  Jitter had grown fond of Lillie too and Lillie had the only hands she would not bite.  Lillie could hold her for hours and Jitter would be very content.  

What was her purpose?  Simple.  For Lillie.

God used Jitter to grow my sweet girl.  She matured in so many ways taking care of this sweet, big-eyed rodent....ahem...hamster.  God used her to teach Lillie responsibility.  Jitter was cared for better then I ever could've.  In the beginning, when I took responsibility for the cleaning of her cage, I often forgot.  I would've gone weeks had it not been for sweet reminders from my girl.  Jitter taught Lillie a softer side of herself.  My brave, independent girl needed someone to be dependent on her.  Someone was counting on her and for the first time she had to think of someone other than herself.  She learned how much her siblings loved her.  One cried with her, one wrote her a poem and drew a picture, and one provided the hug she needed at just the right moment.  She honored God in the way she cared for one of His creatures.  She learned about life....and about death.  She learned that somethings can't be fixed.  She learned that sometimes the hurt in loving something is worth the time spent loving.  Her eyes were opened to the reality that everyone around her has an end and to spend what time she has loving those around her.  Jitter had a purpose.  I can't know every purpose God had planned in bringing Jitter into the Fitzgerald family, but He's allowed me to see some.  

As I pondered these things on the front steps with my first born girl, I was thankful for the little rodent.  I was thankful that she had been allowed to be a Fitzgerald and that Jitter would forever be a part of Lillie's memory.  Before I could voice any of these realizations....

"I know her purpose Mom."

I looked into her tear filled eyes.

"She needed to know how Fitzgerald's love."

Open Eyes and a New Life

April 24, 2000-Logan and I saw him off from the Savannah airport.  Very different from the last two goodbyes, there were no tears shed.  I had shed my last.  I had none left.  He was leaving to return from a two week R&R back in the states to the Western Pacific.  It had been such a hard visit for both of us.  I was jaded, alone, and hopeless.  I couldn't believe this was now my life.  My eyes had been opened from the wonder-filled, young Marine wife, to the bitter, lonely single mother.  The new life sitting next to me had opened my eyes to the path my life had taken and what I felt lay ahead.  Loneliness.  Goodbyes.  Long nights. Deployments.  Drinking.  Deployment stories.  Everything seemed to be swirling around me.  This was not the glamorous life I had envisioned.  Married to an f18 pilot.  The fast life.  The fun.  The parties.  It all seemed to be an extension of college.  Until this new little life showed up.  Logan Patrick Fitzgerald.    He made me pause for the first time.  He stopped me in my tracks and I felt the question pierce my heart, "What are we doing?"  What was I doing?  This isn't what I wanted for him, for me.  Patrick left when he was 6 weeks old.  Came home at 3 months.  Left 6 months later.  I was a single mother. 12 hours from my family and a lifetime away from my husband.  I didn't want this fast paced party lifestyle.  I was done.  I was done with the Marines.  I was done with Beaufort. I was done with pilots. I was done with him.  I had all but come to the conclusion I didn't want to be here when he got home.

April 25, 2000-Found myself at a playgroup on base.  My best friend was home visiting and most of these women were just acquaintances.  Not really sure why I went then.  I know now.  Logan and I were sitting alone and I was faintly aware of the conversation behind me.  A girl I knew only from the neighborhood was sharing with another wife how she knew she would spend eternity in heaven.  I remember the shocked answer from the wife across from her, "That's kind of arrogant don't you think?"  Her's?  "It would be arrogant if I had done something, but it is only because of what Jesus did FOR me."  I don't remember much more but I do remember the joy I sensed from her.  She had such a peaceful way about her that I was drawn to.  I left very intrigued by her statement but still very much alone.

April 28, 2000~I was crying again.  I had been crying the whole morning.  I didn't know what was wrong.  I hadn't talked to Patrick.  I was so very alone.  Logan was in the living room in the middle of the floor playing but I didn't want to go near him.  I was so scared.  I didn't know what to do.  I had hit rock bottom.  When my phone rang, I remember praying it was my husband but the person on the other end would change the whole direction of my world.  It was Ann Yingst.  The very woman from the playgroup.  I remember her telling me she searched to find my number, she knew we didn't know each other very well, but that I had been on her heart all week and was there anything she could pray for me?  I broke down crying.  I remember telling her everything about our visit, how I was feeling, and how I desperately wanted out of this lifestyle.  Her next question not only shocked me but was exactly what I needed to hear.  She asked me if I knew Jesus as my Savior.  Normally this question would send me reeling about how yes, I went to church, yes, I knew Jesus, and yes, I was a good church going person.  But on this day, I wanted more.  My heart was aching to hear what she would say.  She simply and gently walked me through the plan of salvation.  She shared the Gospel.  That Christ died for my sins, He was buried and He rose again.  All of this muck.  All of this hurt.  All of this loneliness was because of sin.  Sin that would separate me from a relationship with my Father.  I remember listening and as she talked my eyes were opened.  It was like the blinders were pulled off.  There was such a joy and a release.  I remember kneeling right there in the kitchen asking God to forgive me and asking Jesus Christ to be my Savior.  "What do I do now?"  "Grow.  God wants you to know Him."  I got in my car and drove around the corner to her house and sobbed as she hugged me and kept telling me over and over, "You have a new life."  My problems didn't go away.  My loneliness did.  My desire to give up did.  My hopelessness did.  On this day my eyes were opened and God gave me a new life.

13 years later.  I am married to a godly man.  I have two sons who are growing in their personal relationship with their Savior.  My oldest daughter has accepted Christ and shows such a want to to learn about Him.  My youngest daughter believes as much as she knows to and I pray for her daily to let it be real.  I am so thankful.  

Empty Arms

My arms were empty tonight.  As they have been for several years now.

We went to Candlelight service at our church tonight and I was surrounded by new moms, all with their arms full.  Full with babies.  Some were cradled, some on hips, some making eyes at those lucky enough to be behind them.  Full arms.  One of my favorite seasons of being a mom.  

I'm out of that season now.  I know people told me to enjoy it, and I did. But I don't truly remember the last full-arm-moment.  I wish I had remembered to treasure that moment.  To remember the why, the smell, the feel, and the moment.  Those moments lasted for a long time.  But it went fast.  

I stood there tonight surrounded by my "babies."  And empty arms.  I miss my full arms but as I looked at the little young men and women around me, I am enjoying my empty arms.  I still glance a little long at the women around me with full arms, but I know that if I focus on times past, I will miss the moments of now.  So I welcome my empty arms.  Proverbs 31:25 "....and she smiles at the future."

As we sang those old hymns, so rich in picture of that night so long ago, I couldn't help but think of Mary.  That night, her arms full, full of joy. She not only cradled her baby, but she cradled God Himself, the sweet Savior.  I know she treasured those moments, "But Mary treasured all these things, pondering them in her heart." Matthew 2:19     I imagine her savoring his smell, his sweet face, his sounds. Unlike so many countless mothers, Mary wasn't told to enjoy it.  It goes fast.  No.  She was told He would be the Son of the Most High, the Son of God.  Simeon told her that a sword would pierce her own soul.  He was to be the Salvation for all people.  Mary had reason to be fearful of the future.  But I don't imagine her to be that way.  I believe she smiled at the future.  Standing on the promises of God.  In that season, in that moment, she had full arms.  She treasured those moments when He was cradled, safe in her arms.

She was purposeful in her teaching and as her arms became empty, she watched the young Man she helped to teach and train.  I am sure as she watched His life unfold, she missed her full arms but she saw the purpose of her empty ones.  He was put here for a purpose, for all people....for her.  I can't imagine her season of empty arms.  I can't even fathom the heartache she faced.  But I do know how thankful she was for empty arms. His empty arms.  Stretched out for her.  For me.  

Tonight, my house is quiet.  I am thankful for empty arms.  Mine, because I am in a season of mothering that is so wonderfullly fulfilling.  I am watching personalities grow and purposes more clear.  I am thankful for Mary's empty arms. She cradled and held and loved, full arms, until it was time to let Him go.  I am thankful beyond words for my Lord's empty arms, stretched out on a cross to be my substitute.  He had nothing from this world to give.  His arms empty. But wholly mine.  

I pray for empty arms this year.  Arms with nothing of this world to give, only myself.  Arms willing to take whatever the Lord has purposed for me.  Arms raised in total surrender to His Will for me.  I smile at the future.  And at empty arms.      

My Last First Date Part 4

Neon Moon

 

We never "officially" made it official, but it was.  We were a couple.  Everyone knew it by then.  We were kind of the last to know, the last to realize how "unofficially" we had become "official."  The transition to him being a friend, to him being my "official," was sort of strange.  The same guy I had been hanging out with for so long, laughing, joking, was now the guy I got nervous 10 minutes before he was suppose to pick me up.  The guy I got excited to see walking through the Quad toward me. The guy I thought about a whole lot more than I ever had.  It was as if my feelings changed overnight. 

 

I still remember the moment that change was glaringly obvious.  We had gone to Houston to go ice skating.  I had never been and he was going up there to sign papers for his Marine Corps commitment.  At the time it was just a convenient excuse for us to make the quick trip to Houston to go on a very cool date.  Looking back now, that signature would change the entire "look" of my future. 

Looking back now, that signature was my everything in a sense.  

In the moment,however, I was going ice skating with a guy I really liked. Arriving in Houston, we both smelled a smell.  Not being hard-of-smelling, I kept mentioning how bad it smelled.  By the time we reached the city limits, his car was a peace pipe.  We barely pulled into a Pizza Hut and stopped the car.  Deciding it just needed to cool off, we stayed, ordered dinner, and enjoyed our conversation.  It was obvious trying to leave, the car was not going with us.  And thus began our adventure that night in Houston.  So many things happened that night and yet I don't remember much of the details.  I do remember some...it was now very dark and we were very stranded in a very bad area of Houston (pre-cell phones), the car was completely dead and yet, Patrick was completely calm,  and the very sweet Hispanic family, who barely spoke English, staying with us in the parking lot of the Pizza Hut the entire time.  At some point, I remember Patrick saying he was going to get help.  I remember him being gone for a long time and I remember the family staying with me being very worried.  I remember crying and the elderly Mom sitting there hugging me.  I remember feeling completely scared and completely worried about Patrick.  Then the cop car showed up.  Patrick's smiling face in the backseat.  I don't remember the details of that night so much but I do remember how I felt seeing his face.  I still get teared up even as I type remembering that moment.  He climbed out and scooped me into big hug.  He kept telling me over and over through my tears, "I told you I would take care of you. You have to believe me from now on."  He has never gone back on that promise.

 

So my days at A&M quickly became so very sweet.  He was a perfect fit for me in every way. 

 

Correction. 

 

In everyway but one.  He still couldn't dance.  He tried.  He knew how much I loved it and he tried.  We went almost every weekend.  We spent so many nights in the neon lights.  I loved him.  I loved being with him.  But I didn't love dancing with him.  I would have to learn to love to hunt, or fish, or watch the Cowboys.  I guess. 

 

"Let's take Aggie Wranglers," were the second sweetest words he has ever said to me.  "Really?"  I couldn't believe he was agreeing.  I had asked many times before, but taking lessons was not his thing.  But he agreed.  We stood in line, signed up, and were on our way to making this a win-win.  I knew how much he would learn; I just didn't realize how much I would.  

 

We took our first set of lessons with great friends, Erica and Brian, the summer we all stayed at A&M for summer school.  It was so much fun and I was beyond tickled at how quickly he picked it up.  The first night, they split us up into groups of guys and girls to give us the "low down" on two-stepping.  Of course I had taken the class twice already, so I was thinking I had nothing to learn.  It's funny what you learn most when you are the least teachable.

 

She began.  And I listened.  Two stepping is like a language she was telling us.  It is spoken by the dancers in subtle ways and you must learn to "listen" to your partner.  You must learn to anticipate what he will "say."  She continued on about how the longer you dance with someone the more subtle the language will be until it will almost be a seamless dance of subtle motions known only to the two of you.  She was telling us how we had to be willing to let the guys mess up or otherwise, they really wouldn't be leading and we would be the ones making all of the moves.  She explained how it made for an awkward dance and it would never "feel" quite right.  She was also demonstrating how we had to be strong in our motions but not so strong that we stopped him from leading but not so weak that we wouldn't follow.  And so on.

 

When we finally got back as couples, it was awkward.  The steps were awkward.  We were stepping on toes.  Our knees were hitting.  Everything in me wanted to take over.  I had done this before.  I had to fight my reaction when his "subtle" movements to lead were forced and unnatural.  He was learning, but I was learning too.  Even though this was not technically my first class, this was in the sense that I wanted to make this work.  I wanted to see him succeed.  Our first complete night of Wranglers was good for both of us.  So much to learn but going in the right direction.  

 

Our nights at the Hall under those neon lights, soon became dreamy.  He was a terrific dancer, and by God's Grace, I had learned to follow.  She had been right; I could anticipate his movement before he would lead.  We took two more classes after that, and each time I learned that for the dance to be better, I had to learn his ways.  I had to anticipate his movements and I had to constantly have my focus on him.  As the years passed, dancing with him came so natural, so second nature.  We could jump in at any song and move around the dance floor under those neon lights like we had been dancing forever.  Just like our friendship had been and our relationship had become, it was easy.  It was fun. 

 

Now looking back almost 18 years later, I realized how much the dance is so much like our life.  Like those lessons so long ago, I finally learned to let him lead.  I learned, albeit the hard way, to follow.   I have learned to be strong enough to follow his lead but not so strong that I am the one leading.  I have learned to anticipate his movements. Just like that dance, with time, the movements have become seamless between the two of us, movements only the two of us know.  At first in our early marriage, it was awkward and never quite "felt" right, I stepped all over his toes and he messed up at times, but after many of God's lessons, our life is sweet.  After those dance lessons, I fell in love under that neon moon ...and still so thankful for the Dance.