True Story Tuesday - On Wednesday

So I'm a day late. It's been busy around here... What's new!?! This True Story Tuesday is pretty recent.
I accepted a new job at the end of March. The company does all of their training in Glenwood Springs, about 4 hours drive away from our town. The training lasts for a week and two days. Now, those of you who know me know that I have a new little one. I was reluctant to take the job specifically because I knew it meant being away from the family for over a week. I really felt like this job was being provided by the Lord and, ultimately, I decided to take it. I decided to look on the bright side:

• I'd be able to sleep through the night
• I'd have all my meals provided, and plenty of opportunity to explore all the local eateries
• I'd be right down the street from a Targ*t (hooray!!)
• I'd have acccess to a gym in the hotel

The gym was definitely my biggest "bright side". Before my pregnancy I was in the best shape I'd been in since High School. I went to 6am classes at the gym 5 days a week (almost) every week until I was 6 weeks from my due date. I'm convinced that my fitness level is why I had a relatively easy labor. I've been wanting to get back to the gym but I just can't seem to find a rhythm since Norah was born. So having direct access to a gym and no child care to worry about - even just for a week - was a huge plus.
I checked into the hotel and my room was just two doors down from the gym. SCORE! But wouldn't you know it, the gym was out of order! I asked at the front desk and they said that I could use the one at the affiliated hotel across the street. They said they should have it fixed by the next day. As it turns out, the battery that operated the key-card lock on the gym door died. So there was nothing wrong with the gym. There was just no way to get in! I looked longingly through the window as I bundled up to take to chilly walk across the street.
I'm a firm believer that when you ask nicely for something, you'll probably get it a little faster. Hence, when the gym door wasn't fixed the next day, I asked at the front desk when it would be. I proceeded to ask (nicely) every day for three more days. I got in the habit of asking whoever was there every time I passed the front desk. I just thought it was a good idea to let the people who worked there know that getting that door fixed was important to one of their customers.
A few days after I checked in I was heading out the door again to go to the gym. I saw a gentleman walking out of a small office right next to the front desk area. He made eye contact and smiled. He had a spiral cord coming out of he neck of his jacket into a headphone-looking thing on one of his ears. I though "Oh great! I can talk to maintenance directly!" I walked up, still smiling, and said, "Do you have any idea of when the gym door is going to be fixed?" He kind of squinted and said, "I got no idea lady, my friend's just checking us in. You need me to pick a lock for you?" AACK! I said something about the battery being dead and said that his lock picking skills probably wouldn't help. Then I walked as quickly as I could without running out the door. 
Turns out the office next to the front desk was the hotel provided public computer room and the headphone looking thing was, well, headphones. Oh MAN did I misinterpret the cues on that one! Of course I saw the guy again (murphy's law). He was with a couple of friends. He stopped me and said, "I'm still working on getting that door fixed ma'am." I apologized and told him how embarrassed I was. He said it was no problem and there was no apology necessary. Needless to say I appreciated his graciousness very much!
The very next day they finally fixed the door to the gym. I don't know if it was my good natured pestering that did it, but I know that the front desk staff saw (and giggled at) the incident. I choose to believe that it brought it to the top of someone's mind and caused them to call maintenance that one last time. :-)

True Story Tuesday - Arranged Marriage

I'm participating in True Story Tuesday along with several other blogger friends. First, a teeny bit of background. Many of my embarrassing stories (or seemingly embarrassing ones) will star my mother. When we were youngsters, it seemed to be her mission to embarrass us. Many people believe this to be true of their mothers, I know. In the case of my mom, I am sure of it. I am not convinced that being exposed to embarrassment at an early age builds character. Let's just say that as a result of some of the things she has said to me in public, I'm pretty dang hard to embarrass. This true story didn't actually embarrass me. I had enough experience that I saw it coming. So you be the judge, was mom on a mission of embarrassment or just a well intentioned man-hunt?

This one takes us way back to the 20th century. The year was 1998 and I was a freshman in college. Actually, technically, I wasn't quite yet. I was leaving home for the first time and my parents were seeing me off by toting my stuff a couple hundred miles south and staying for two days of "freshman parent classes" at my school's freshman orientation week.

The second day all the freshman and their parents attended a meeting where the student body council and their advisors introduced themselves. I went to a private christian school and the joke was that many parents sent their children (especially their daughters) there to get married. So at the end of his introduction, the faculty advisor said, "And moms and dads, I also want you to know that I did, in fact, meet my lovely wife when I was a student here." Everyone chuckled. It was a good joke. So for a little laugh, at the end of HIS introduction the ASB president said, "And like our mentor Tim, I hope to meet my wife here." Everyone chuckled. It was a good joke the second time too.

That evening there was an all campus Bar-B-Q as a last goodbye meal for the parents to have with their freshmen before they all took their empty station wagons and paraded off campus until the time came to move all that junk home for the summer. Everyone, absolutely everyone was at the Bar-B-Q that evening. I was standing in line with my parents. Not more than 20 feet away my mom notices Mr. ASB Pres himself. I see the light turn on in her eyes, a plan is forming... She looks at me and says as loudly as she can without yelling, "Hey Shell, there's that boy who's looking for a wife. Maybe you should go put in your application!"

Now don't get me wrong. My mother is not some maniacal Mommy Dearest looking for every opportunity to make her children feel small of insignificant. She is, to this day, one of my very best friends and spiritual mentors. It's just that Mom doesn't take herself too seriously, and she didn't think that we should either. She always thought that if we couldn't laugh at ourselves, we certainly had no right to laugh at others - even in fun. By the time that event took place, I'd learned her life lesson well, which is why my response was something like a calm, "I'll do it tomorrow Mom." and not a screaming sprint in the other direction. Mom is really good at laughing at herself too. But that's a story for another day. :-)

Lessons of Love - The Story of Bertha Griffith

We just started a small group at a friends house. We'll be meeting with some people from church for several weeks and doing a study on the subject of love. One of the first things we talked about was identifying a person in our life who is very loving and talking about what we can learn about love from them.

This led me to the story of Bertha Griffith. It's not really my story and I'm sure that I have some of the details wrong. It's a story about a very important lady in my Dad's life and what her story taught me about love. The story of Bertha Griffith is in two parts. Each part has taught me something different about love.

PART 1

My dad was about 16 when he became a Christian. It was the late 60's and he was a bit of a long haired misfit. His parents got divorced when he was 14 and he moved with his mom to a new city in northern California. So aside from looking different, he was in a new place. He's not really a gregarious type of person who jumps quickly into a new group even now. I'm guessing he was a lot more shy then. He started going to church because two cute girls at school invited him to come sing in their youth choir. They needed tenors. Long story short, after spending a little while around the kids in the choirs, my dad became a Christian and started going to Sunday services regularly. 

After a few services some of the "elders" of the church pulled him aside to "straighten him out" about his appearance. From what I've been told, they were giving him a hard time about his appearance in general (his hair was too long and too bushy, he wasn't especially well groomed, etc.) and his style of dress (much too casual for church). In the middle of this conversation a very well respected woman in the church, Bertha Griffith, stepped between my dad and his accusers. She physically stood between him and them. She gathered up all 4 feet 10 inches and 70-some-odd-years of herself and said, "Now you leave him alone! The Lord and I have talked and he's going to be just fine."

Lesson #1 - Love accepts people as they are and sees them for what they have the potential to be.

While others in that church saw my dad as a long haired loser kid, Bertha saw his potential. But she didn't pull him aside to lecture him about how he was wasting his potential. She just accepted him as he was and let him decide to live up to his potential on his own. The truth was, my dad was a hurting kid who probably just needed someone to believe in him.

PART 2

Years later, after my parents had met and married, they moved to the area in southern California where I grew up. When they went to a nearby church (with tiny baby me in tow), who was standing at the door greeting but Bertha Griffith? Hundreds of miles away from where she first said that he would be "Just fine" she recognized that misfit teenage boy all grown up. She smiled and said, "I want to show you something." She pulled out her pocket book and produced a photo of my dad at 16. She said, "I want you to know that I've been praying for you ever since you came to that church as a teenager. I knew you would turn out ok."

Lesson #2 - Love follows through on what it believes.

Bertha believed in my dad's potential. As far as I know, aside from that one time she defended him, she never made any grand gestures on his behalf.  She didn't write him letters when he went off to college or even keep track of him in any way. She may never have known what came of his life, but she did what she could on his behalf. She just prayed. And lo and behold... that long haired misfit turned out just fine.

We all went to the same church for years until Bertha passed away. I think she was in her late nineties when she finally did. Every once in a while she would take me aside at church and tell me about how she prayed for my dad all those years. And she would whisper, "I still do. And now I pray for you too."

That's what Bertha Griffith taught me about love.

Nap Time

Today I put her in her crib to play hoping that she'd fall asleep. She was grumpy so after a few minutes Mark brought her sippy cup in with some waterjuice (2/3 water, 1/3 juice). This is how we found her about ten minutes later.

When she woke up she seemed very confused as to how she fell asleep when the last thing she remembered was playing and having a little snack. She also looked at me like, "Where'd my cup go!?!" She got over it though. :-)

Easter Photos Part 2

Here's a couple more just for fun. That day she happened to have a tuft of hair on the back of her head tat stuck straight up. My mom and I even tried Gel, but we couldn't get it to stay down. Oh well...

Easter Photos

I haven't even had time since Easter to load our photos onto the computer, much less post about it. My favorite part of Easter (besides having dinner and quality time with family) was Norah's reaction to her dress. 

I got her dressed in the morning at my parents' house. We were hanging out with them because Mark had to go to church early for band practice. Once she was all dressed in her Easter finery I stood her up on the back of the couch so she could see herself in the mirror. She took one look, grinned as big as she could and then took both of her hands and patted her skirt as if to say, "I'm REALLY pretty!" It was one of those times I wish I could transfer my mental picture directly to video. I didn't catch that moment, but I caught a couple of other fun Easter memories. Here's a couple of the best ones:

Thankful Thursday

I know it's Friday, but I just haven't had the time to write! I am thankful for so very many things. This post has to be short. I have a later schedule today and I actually get to go to the GYM before work!! 

That's the first thing I'm thankful for. Before Norah and up until I was 32 weeks pregnant I went to 6 am classes about 5 days a week. That's just not practical with a baby. I'm thankful for a husband who helps out any way he can and encourages me in my goal to be healthy. God willing, healthy will include getting back to pre-baby size!

I'm thankful for family visiting.

I'm thankful for friends who invite us into their home for small group despite their limited knowledge of us, and with an understanding that we'll be coming with a loud, "busy" baby in tow. (that's you Linn)

I'm thankful that I am learning the lesson of being faithful with whatever I have, no matter how small. It's a lesson I've learned over and over again. I don't even want to share specifics because I think too many of us are tempted to see God as a giant vending machine. Let's just say that you can't out give God. That is a fact. He promises to give us everything we need. Not everything we want. But everything we need is ENOUGH. And for that I'm thankful!

Super Baby!

Norah's latest trick. This one is thanks to my dad. Enjoy!

Memorial Box Monday

I have been thinking all day about what to write for this MBM. One of the benefits of this excercise is really the opportunity to remember the Lord's faithfulness. Just as I was typing that last sentance the story of my ring came to mind! So here's a story of the way the Lord cares for even the little sentimental things.
When my mom was in kindergarden she was playing in the office after school (grandma was a school teacher there so it wasn't unusual). She found a gold ring in the bottom of the lost and found. The secretary said that if no one claimed it by the end of the year, Mom could have it. She claimed it at the end of the year and held on to it all through her childhood. She and Dad had it looked at before they got married. The jeweler said it was a wedding band from the 1920's. The diamonds in those are usually just chips, but these are real, faceted diamonds. By that time the ring was several sizes too small. She always meant to get it resized but never did.
I played with that ring in her jewelry box as I was growing up. I just couldn't wait until I "grew into" it. I started wearing it in late high school and took it with me when I left for college. It was always too small for my mom's hand but I was glad she never had it resized. My hands are MUCH smaller and though it was a little big on my ring finger I loved it. I always felt like it connected me to my mom.
After Mark & I had been married for a couple of years we moved from our first house less than a mile from my parents to about an hour away. On moving day when we were almost done I looked down and noticed that my ring was gone. It was hard enough to move from my family - even though we knew it was where we were meant to be - but losing that connection just broke my heart. I cried and prayed, prayed and cried, but I just couldn't find it!
For the next several days I prayed every time I thought of it. I just asked that the Lord would open my eyes and slow me down enough to see it. I just had this feeling that it was still around somewhere and I was missing it.
More than a week later, I went into the kitchen to take out the trash. Normally I would have asked Mark to do it but I kust decided to do it myself this once (hehe:-). As I was reaching down to pick up the can, I saw it. Right there under the sink tucked next to the trash can and the can of sink cleanser was my mom's ring! I probably used that trash can no less than 20 times that week. I don't know why I didn't see it. How could I have missed something so important to me in a place that I used so often? In the moment I picked up the ring I felt the Lord say that I may not have known where my ring was but he knew all along. Since then I've worn the ring on my middle finger. At the end of my pregnancy when I swelled up like an overcooked sausage, I was extra grateful to have a ring to wear on my wedding finger.
For this story I don't think I'll put my ring in our box. I'll put a fake in for display purposes. The real one will be staying safely on my finger!