love is in the heir

february 14 rolls around and everybody starts talking candy and cards. expectations run the gamut. single people can feel the sting. married people sometimes bicker. relationships can quite literally be put to the test for this hallmarked holiday. and i can't help but feel like we have fallen for a great big{sometimes expensive} bag of lies. been tricked. o, dear me. let's stop the insanity shall we? 

why not make this love holiday obsolete by loving everyday, not just february 14. use the date on the calendar as a reminder not as an ultimatum. look around you. i would venture to guess if you spent a moment, you would see evidence of love all around. common, simple, ordinary observations of something that is great. gifts from the giver of love, our creator. those who have eyes, let them see!

here are some of my everyday loves...

sharing a roaring fire

small beginnings

coffee. yes. and amen.

clean dogs and the boys who love them

the sincerity of a handwritten note 

barber shops and the boys who frequent them 

yoga

boys who make their own lunches-and photograph their spoils

making ridiculous faces-and not caring what anyone thinks

one-of-a-kind-lego finds

kids who love history

chums

slow starts

shrouded geeks

clean dishes

boys who learn at the table

first dances

brotherly love whilst keeping it real

coincidences

sunshiney walks to the park

friends who knit me fun headbands-thanks, ariana! 

traditions

homemade cards

a man who isn't afraid to lead

love: may you have eyes to see!
xo,
gf

p.s. i was just informed there is a spongebob valentine's special. sounds promising.

day 3: memories of christmas past

a celebratory engagement{l+m far right}

december 2002 i was sleeping off a bout of pregnancy-whilst-caring-for-toddlers fatigue. it was a dark and rainy saturday when the phone rang. the Mister handed me the phone. "it's lincoln and melinda. they want to speak with you." the couple i had introduced only 3 months prior were phoning to tell me they were engaged. can it be possible that i am more glad today, ten years later, than i was that day? i am. in a weird way it was a premonition of what it's going to feel like when one of our boys calls to give us the very same news. here's why.

after i had my first boy{and then the next and the next and then the next}, something in me changed. i began to see every boy regardless of his age, as my son. i still do. it's some kind of warped motherly nurturing thing, but i went from somebody's girlfriend to everybody's mother in matter of minutes. it's the way i was made. i cannot explain it, but let me try.

my favorite jane austen quote goes something like this, "a single man in pursuit of a great fortune must be in want of a wife". and once upon a time one of our favorite boys{who was approximately 32 at the time} was single. and open to being in pursuit. so i decided it was about time he met our friend melinda. lincoln was game-and flew himself all the way from south texas to nashville to meet this girl over a labor day weekend.

the rest is history. but i suspect you want a little more detail so here goes. 

many years prior lincoln lived with my husband when they were bachelors. he remains one of the most obscure and surprising fellows i have ever met. he once dug ditches, taught in the south bronx, moved to south texas and went on to become a pastor. i consider him a contemporary huckleberry finn, quirky, brilliant with a mischievous side. 

and then there's melinda, his beloved bride. she's his equal in every way. well read, witty, resourceful and deeply loyal. she was once commissioned by her high school alma mater to write a book about the history of this small, private school in middle tennessee. she would never share that with you so i will. the first word that comes to mind when i think of melinda is thoughtful. the second word is steadfast. i would use the same two words to describe her groom. 

introducing these two remains one of the shining moments in my life. i love sharing in their story. it is my belief they were meant to meet, fall in love and marry. had i not introduced them, i am confident they would have met another way. but boy am i glad it was through me!

today they live amongst the most wonderful fig trees in a tiny, rural town in alabama with their three precocious children. you might say they've been busy over the past 10 years! happy engagement anniversary, lincoln and melinda. may the years continue to bring sweetness and joy.

xo,

gf

love won out

the calm before the storm

in my cozy home i sit whilst a storm is raging. a monster storm, penned frankenstorm, is brewing. a hybrid of cold freezing rain and hurricane-like winds is threatening our little-cottage-on-the hill. a storm that is like nothing ever seen over the last 100 years. the storm that is raging outside my door is not unlike the storm that is raging in our country right now.

i am not sure how to articulate this rumination of storm that has been rolling around in my mind for going on 30 years now. so like a body of cold water that begs to be enjoyed, i think i shall just jump right in. before i do, a disclaimer. the opinions expressed in this blogpost are solely mine-written from my meager understanding of my own christian beliefs.

one of my sister's best friend in high school was a handsome boy who happened to be the son of our pastor. my sister and her other best friend, a lovely girl, were always together. the three of them. they had their senior portrait made together. they were a fixture in our home. i still remember the three of them always together. swimming in our pool. chatting and laughing. going to prom. all those typical teenager-ish things. but one of those three high school friends was keeping a not so typical teenager-ish secret. a secret that ultimately killed him. he was gay.

my very intuitive sister knew his secret. how could she not? she was his best friend. and best friends share their lives with one another-even if they don't. 

i have been thinking a lot about this lately. the heated political debate about how people live. and who should be able to get married to whom. it's written on the voting ballot in my state. it embarrases me, really. have we come to this? making everything a law or an opportunity to politicize the private? giving politicos more power and prowess? paying them to fight all these imaginary dragons whilst we sink further into poverty both literal and spiritual. it makes me want to shout,"wake up!"

as a christian it feels like such a waste of time really. the time that it takes to fight another person over who they wish to love seems like time better spent loving the One who made me and them. am i missing something? if i am solely focused on the Creator, if i am gazing at Him and basking in His light, do i still have time to throw stones? to nick pick? i mean who is going to listen to a shout of hate when a whisper of love works so much more powerfully? consider the cross. i implore you. consider the cross bearer. He walked amongst the haters. He was not one of them. 

i think the church has fallen for a great big trick. it reminds me so much of c.s. lewis' book the screwtape letters. the demons are at work. and the one who is working the hardest is named Distraction. the time that it takes for a person to write a sign in protest or volunteer to get signatures protesting could have been better spent sitting with a grieving widow or tutoring a struggling student. are we too focused on what we are against that we forgot what we are for? 

the Mister and i roll these thoughts around a lot. his observation is on the hypocrisy of the church in regards to marriage. "we have no business telling other people who or how to marry when our divorce rate is out of control." 

christians, have we lost our way? love won out. jesus' love won us out. He is enough. He is bigger than our petty arguing. He is bigger than our protests. He is bigger than our well intended posturing. that, THAT is worth shouting. that is worth getting excited about. if we must make a sign, how about writing about His love? consider the gospel. the good news. He who knew no sin, bore our sin on our behalf. He went to the cross for us.    all.of.us. and we do not deserve, and we do nothing to earn it. o, good glorious gospel. that is worthy of examining and commending. be FOR that.

"turn your eyes upon jesus look full in his wonderful face and the things of earth will grow strangely dim in the light of his glory and grace"{hymn by helen lemmel, 1922}. 

if i am for Him, what i am against doesn't really matter much. and i am for Him.

love to you from me by Him,

gf

did you get the memo?

the boys argued to the point i asked with much fatigue and equal amount of frustration, "what are you palestine and israel?" then when the oldest criticized my technology techniques, i shot back, "hey buddy, if i wanted to live with criticism, i would move back in with my mother." 

how my children must see me.

all of this comes on the heels of a long day where the Mister is out late. i am drained {and it's only tuesday}. but then i sat down and thought, this is not the mother i want etched in my boys' memory. the tired hag who was quick with the sarcasm and slow with the grace. i want them to have a snapshot of a kinder, gentler woman who enjoyed hearing the same 3 chords on their guitar like it was the first time hearing it or listing all of the shapes of bacteria or succumbing to a pile of legos with vim and vigor or reading with a lap full of books and a jar of m-n-m's. in case i forget, i'll write myself a memo...

hey charlie,

i meant it today when we were driving in the car and i said, "i love reaching my hand over in the car and grabbing on to you. you're not mine forever so i am savoring every drop of you i can. every. yummy. drop.of.you." you have the heart of an artist and the confidence of a mountain climber. i love you, warrior. you tell me you are more pueblo, "peaceful farmer". but your passion doesn't concur. because you love a good row, buddy. i can see it in your merry eyes. you love a good row.

hello, harry

how can you continue to surprise me with your candor and your complete lack of self awareness? you have thrown caution to the wind and make me gasp, but mostly from laughing so hard. i tell you the truth. the lord sent me a resounding message to LIGHTEN UP, and he wrapped that message in a blue bundle named harrison. your magnificent freedom makes me jealous. your honest and authentic gestures inspire me.

o, cookie dough

what is your real name? i don't think i'll ever see you as anything more than my baby. maybe that's why you get away with EVERYTHING. o, how i have pettered out on having you toe-the-line. you whisper in my ear, "you're as beautiful as a spider". our secret reference to an arachnid named charlotte. adventure and courage are your best friends. they carry you through many a day and get you into the most unlikely of predicaments much to my dismay {and frustration}.daddy told me about you riding your bike down our driveway lying on your stomach. i cannot believe your bravery. you keep me from conforming and settling and most of the time, resting. but you certainly keep me on my knees, praying. o, dear me. you have driven me to my knees. 

my darling, jack

the past few months have been touch and go for us. i wonder if i will remember what you looked like as 13 year old because you have suddenly become camera stubborn shy. and equally reticent on giving me hugs. i sneak up from behind and grab you until you wriggle away with a "mom, you are so weird." i sneak up from behind and sniff the nape of your neck. "mom! what are you doing?" i smell you. the baby you. you still smell so sweet. the burgeoning adolescent boy has not ravaged you-yet. even though the attitude clearly has. you have made me question everything i thought i knew as a mother-in a good way. you do not accept my slack {you came by THAT trait honestly}. and you reckon with me on every point both small and large. basically, i feel like we are iron sharpening iron, son. and that is a painful process.
over the past month i have seen you shoot up like a geyser. you have taken on an incredible school workload with zest like i have never seen. i told your daddy, "he is soaring". and you are. you grin as you move through your day-almost like you are devouring a decadent meal. "latin? a double helping please. biology? don't mind if i do. i better save room for writing and reading too." you continue to spur me on to read more and learn more so that i can pronounce those obscure scientific words. you will always be the one responsibly for welcoming me to motherhood. like it or not.

xo, 

your mama aka gf

The Cure for the common weekend: Wildassmonkeygood

here's hoping your weekend is full of jammie-goodness-puppy-loving-fun. it's friday. i'm in love! who wants to dance? xo

Don't look a gift horse in the mouth.

This is a cautionary tale much like an Aesop fable only this is not a work of fiction, but of truth. 


Once upon a time a girl told a boy, "I don't want anything for Christmas." So he bought her storage cases for her dishes, and she spent their first Christmas as a married couple in the bathroom weeping. It took many failed attempts and many years, but finally this girl decided that the best way to get what she wanted was by asking for it. That was 16 years ago. 


One day this girl began writing a blog. In that blog she told the boy what she wanted for Valentine's Day (with a link to the website). The boy was overjoyed for finally he knew that the way to his true love's heart was not through a maze of uncertain innuendos and riddles, but simply through a cookie jar. And so the boy went to aforementioned website where the girl's desired gift awaited to be purchased and shipped. The girl's box arrived the day before the upcoming holiday. When she opened the gift, her heart sang. The boy was glad. He had surprised her with what she wanted. All was well. She was so happy she made her love's favorite: peanut butter cups. She fashioned his into the shape of a burro as she pledged never to look a gift horse in the mouth. And they all lived happily ever after.


The End.

The burro incurred a broken leg during a race (to the dinner table) so the Mister had to put him down(his throat).

The Four Loves

C.S. Lewis wrote about this. 

Here is my version...

and the man who made all of this possible...

...The baby daddy aka The Love O' My Life.

Happy Valentine's, dear ones. Hope your day is filled with all kinds of sweetness. Lest you think the day belongs to Hallmark, read more about the remarkable man who was St. Valentine here.

xoxo