Happy Valentine's Day

Our annual Valentine letter:

February 2012

The natural flights of the human mind are not from pleasure to pleasure, but from hope to hope.  ~Samuel Johnson

Hope: to look forward to with desire and reasonable confidence

Dave hopes for time and money and perfect weather to plant and fence the 3 acre pasture he cleared this last Spring.  He hopes for cows and pigs and turkeys.  He hopes for sunny, rainless weekends with no wind so he can work outside and do what he enjoys.   He hopes to have many more meals made entirely from our little piece of nature, like the few we had this year.  Our favorite was barbequed grouse (which Dave spontaneously hunted armed with only a rock and a bit of good luck, I mean, aim), roasted potatoes, and green beans.   He hopes to one day be able to live completely off the land. 

Hope: the feeling that what is wanted can be had or that events will turn out well

Ruthie hopes people will know her thoughts so she won’t have to talk (this is something she actually said to me, not just something I’ve inferred).  I saw this evidenced one morning, early in the year, when I dropped Ruthie off at preschool.  I noticed she went directly to a table, sat down, and quietly folded her hands.  I watched her for a few minutes, just sitting there, when the teacher noticed her and said, “Would you like some playdough, Ruthie?”  Ruthie smiled and nodded.  Later, I asked Ruthie about what I saw.  Apparently, it’s fairly routine for her to just sit there and wait for the playdough to appear.  “Do you ever ask your teacher for the playdough?” I wondered.  “No,” she replied.  “I just wait and hope.”  She also hopes she can have a beach party this year for her fifth birthday, something she’s been planning since the day she turned four.  She hopes that when she goes to the Monster Truck show with her dad this month, she’ll get to see a truck fly and that there will be one that’s blue and black, her new favorite colors.  She hopes that I’ll have endless hours with nothing to do but play with her or watch her twirl or hop on one foot or demonstrate some amazing new skill.  She hopes to grow up and be “just a mommy,” and by “just” she means motherhood as her only profession. 

Hope: to feel that something desired may happen

I hope to somehow find more time in my day, or to be organized enough to actually write regularly on my blog—sorry to those of you who actually read it.  I hope I’m making good choices as a mom, about where to send Ruthie to school, about how much time to spend on my chores and how much to spend fulfilling Ruthie’s above mentioned hopes about how I spend my time.  I hope Ruthie remembers the good times we have together and not the times I lose my patience.  I hope, having now been married for a full decade, I’ve learned a little about being a good wife and that I’ll learn even more over the next ten years.

Hope: a person or thing in which expectations are centered

This Valentine’s Day, we hope that you, “being rooted and established in love, may have power, together with all the saints, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, and to know this love that surpasses knowledge—that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God” (Ephesians 3:17-19).  “Now hope does not disappoint, because the love of God has been poured out in our hearts…” (Romans 5:5).  May you find your hope in Him.

Love,

Dave, Tiffany, and Ruthie

Merry Christmas

            Over the course of this Advent season, my family has been counting the days until Christmas by looking at a different name of Jesus each day.  I am overwhelmed by the awesomeness of God.

            He is Immanuel, God with us.  He is the Prince of Peace.  He is the King of Kings.  He is Lord and Savior.  He is Christ, the Messiah.  He is the Light of the World and the Bright Morning Star.  He is the Bread of Life.  He is the Word.  He is the Great Physician.  He is the Lamb of God and the Lion of the Tribe of Judah.  He is Rabbi and Teacher.  He is the Chief Cornerstone.  He is our Friend.  He is the Good Shepherd.  He is a Servant.  He is our Redeemer.  He is the Great I AM.  He is the Alpha and the Omega.  He IS…

            And yet, “Christ Jesus, who, though He was in the form of God, did not count equality with God a thing to be grasped, but made Himself nothing, taking the form of a servant, being born in the likeness of men.  And being found in human form, He humbled Himself by becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross.  Therefore God has highly exalted Him and bestowed on Him the name that is above every name, so that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father.”  Philippians 2:5-11

Merry Christmas~

May you be filled to overflowing with the incredible love of God.

Out of the Mouths of Babes

"Mom," Ruthie said to me the other day, "will you write down Rosie's story for me?"

"Sure," I said as I grabbed a piece of paper. 

Ruthie picked up Rosie, her pink stuffed dog, and began to "read" Rosie's tag to me:

"God is love forever and for always and for everyone."

"Is that all?" I asked.

"And, God keeps you safe from monsters. The End."

Wow.  A story for us all to take to heart, I think.

Can You See Me Now?

“And do not seek what you should eat or what you should drink, nor have an anxious mind.  For all these things the nations of the world seek after, and your Father knows that you need these things.  But seek the kingdom of God, and all these things shall be added to you.”  ~Luke 12:29-31

My husband recently told me about a time when he was following a car with the license plate: NWULME.  He spent a large part of his commute trying to figure out what it said. 

            “It’s like our walk with God,” he said.  “We spend so much of our time trying to figure things out and make sense of whatever’s happening; we focus so much of our energy on figuring out the why and how and when, but it rarely makes sense.”

            As he spoke, my mind drifted to a similar lesson I’d been learning.  In Having a Mary Heart in a Martha World, Joanna Weaver refers to God as the Great Grammarian; she cautions the reader not to put a period where God puts a comma, and not to put a comma where God puts a period.  I found myself wondering, how do I know which is which?  Maybe something that feels like a comma is really a period, or vice versa.  Like having more children.  Is this a comma, or a period?  Everything in me wants this to be a comma, but maybe it’s not.  How do I know?

            And then my husband concluded his story.  After trying to figure out what the license plate said to no avail, he inched his car as close to the other vehicle as he could possibly get.  He saw then, what he hadn’t seen before.  The license plate did not say NWULME, it said NWUCME or “Now you see me.” 

            “We have to get close to God,” he said, “and focus on Him.  That’s what matters.  Do we really see Him?  Are we close enough?  Everything falls into place when we are.”

            He’s so right.  I so often come to God with my own agenda, desiring Him to put His stamp of approval or even *gulp* His stamp of rejection on whatever it is that I want, on my plan.  But how often do I come to Him empty-handed, without a plan at all?  How often do I sit at His feet and just seek to know Him?  How often do I open up my heart so that He can fill it, rather than hand it to Him already full of distractions that crowd out any truth He wants to speak? 

            After three years of coming to Him with my desire for more children (no, to be honest, two years—the first year was all me just waiting for it to happen, assuming it would because my plan was good, right?), I’ve finally learned, or am learning, I’ve been seeking the wrong thing.  If God is the Great Grammarian, it’s not my job to figure out where there needs to be a comma or a period; it’s His.  My job, or my privilege, is to get to know Him.  And what a stress-free job that is.  No more figuring out the why and the what and the when, just the Who.  It’s a pursuit that fills my heart with love and peace and truth.  I can rest in the knowledge of His goodness and His love.  Anything He has is better than anything I can even conceive of wanting.  And, in the beautiful way that only God can orchestrate, I find that as I seek His face and come to Him open and ready to hear His calling, the why and the what and the when become increasingly clear and often so much better than anything I could have ever asked or imagined.

            “Now you see Me,” God says, then He opens the passenger door and smiles, “Hop in, let’s go for a ride.”  That’s an invitation I don’t want to miss.

            “I am the Lord your God…Open your mouth wide, and I will fill it.” ~Psalm 81:10

“Call to Me, and I will answer you, and show you great and mighty things, which you do not know.”  ~Jeremiah 33:3

            “Then you will call upon Me and come and pray to Me, and I will listen to you.  You will seek Me and find Me when you seek Me with all your heart.”  ~Jeremiah 29:12-13

“Now to Him who is able to do exceedingly abundantly above all that we ask or think…”  ~Ephesians 3:20

When Life Hands You Ribbons

            The other day, after her nap, I asked Ruthie to go put her dress back on as she had slept in just her leggings.  At the mere suggestion that she do this by herself, she melted into a puddle on the floor and cried,

            “But I need you to help me!”

            It is my constant battle to try and get her to do things on her own, so I simply stated,

            “You know how to put your dress on.”

            “But I can’t tie the ribbon!” she wailed.

            This particular dress had a ribbon that tied in the back.

            “I will help you with the ribbon,” I assured her.  “Now please go put your dress on.”  I went about the business of getting snack ready and Ruthie dragged herself into her bedroom.  For the next ten minutes, she wailed and cried and created as much drama as she could possibly muster.  I could see through her partially opened door that she had her dress on, so I continued to do my own thing, allowing her time to work it out.  Eventually, she emerged complete with tears and snot dripping down her face, the ends of the two ribbons in her sweaty little hands.

            “I can’t tie the ribbon,” she wailed again.

            “Oh, honey,” I said as I grabbed a tissue and helped her blow her nose, “I never asked you to tie the ribbon.  I told you I’d do that part.”

 *

            Fast forward a few days to me, wailing on the phone to my mom, overwhelmed by all that I needed to get done.  And what started as feeling overwhelmed by my current circumstances, led into being overwhelmed by all that my life wasn’t, isn’t and never will be.  It was the ultimate of pity parties.  As I hung up the phone, tears on my face and snot dripping out of my nose, Ruthie slowly approached me, handed me a tissue and gave me a hug.  Suddenly, I saw myself in my little girl’s shoes: standing there with ribbons in my hands, feeling overwhelmed by the requirements of life.  As I blew my nose, I heard the Lord say,

            “Oh, Tiffany.  I never asked you to tie all these ribbons.  I never asked you to maneuver this life alone.  Come to me, and I will give you rest.   Put on the “dress” of My love; you don’t have to tie the ribbon, I already did that part.”

“Come to Me, all you who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.  Take My yoke upon you and learn from Me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.  For My yoke is easy and My burden is light.” ~Matthew 11:28-30

“I have come that you may have life, and that you may have it more abundantly.” ~John 10:10

Rainy Days

          It’s mid-June and it seems the rain will never end.  This past Wednesday (6/15) was the worst.  I woke up to rain, my daughter and I went for a walk in the rain; all day long it alternated between brief, mocking sun breaks, and pouring down rain.  As the day progressed, my mood seemed to reflect the weather.  I could find nothing to be cheery about, and as a result, my daughter’s mood began to reflect my own.  I was whining in my heart, and she was whining openly and vocally about everything.  Not a winning combination. 

Somehow we made it through the morning, whined our way through lunch, and now were very ready for glorious nap time.  As I was pulling the shade in Ruthie’s room, I muttered out loud, “Will this rain ever stop?”  And then, out of the mouth of my sweet babe, I heard, “But, Mom, the rain makes everything grow!”  It does, indeed.  “You are so right,” I said.  “Thank you for reminding me.”  And for our naptime prayer, we thanked God for the rain that makes this part of the world so beautiful.

As I closed her door, I found myself with a new attitude and a determination to redeem our morning with a much better afternoon.  While Ruthie slept, I unloaded my overflowing basket of magazines, keeping the newest issues, and piling the rest in the middle of the living room floor.  I dug out Ruthie’s scissors, set them on the pile, then went about my chores as I waited for her to wake up.  As I cleaned and baked, I pictured in my mind all the beautiful things outside my front door that are only there because of the rain: green grass, a forest of trees, fields of daisies, my favorite wild irises.  So much lush beauty that only comes because God gives us rain. 

When Ruthie woke up, I showed her the pile of magazines and the scissors.  “We’re going to make a Rainy Day book,” I said.  Her eyes lit up as I explained that we could look through the magazines and cut out pictures of things that we are thankful for because of the rain: flowers, trees, fruits & vegetables, puddles, etc.  When we were finished, we could glue them onto colorful paper and make a book, then we’d always be reminded that God gives us rain to make everything grow, just like she said.  We spent the next hour, flipping through the pages of Better Homes & Gardens magazine, cutting out pictures of pretty flowers.  We never finished the book, because, as I recall, the sun came out that afternoon and we set aside our clippings to go play outside. 

Later, after Ruthie was tucked in bed for the night, I put all of our beautiful pictures of flowers and garden produce into a folder, ready to be pulled out on another rainy day.  As I did, the Lord whispered to my heart that it’s not just this world that grows more beautiful from the rain, but our hearts, too.  It’s the rainy days and storms in my life that provide opportunity for growth.   I can choose to complain and whine, or I can choose to let the Lord do some cutting and pasting and transform my heart into something beautiful, something reflective of the God that created it.  Whether Ruthie and I ever finish our Rainy Day book or not, it doesn’t matter.  But I hope I’ll always remember that it’s the rain that makes everything grow—whether it be carrots and flowers, or hearts and attitudes—the Lord sends the rain, and the rain is good.

Loved

            A few weeks ago, my husband and I curled up on the couch and enjoyed a romantic movie about a man and a woman whose love defeated all the odds.  It was a classic tale of boy-meets-girl, boy-loses-girl, and boy-gets-girl-again, only the end twisted itself into a heartbreaking picture of dementia in which the boy has the girl, and yet has lost her at the same time.  But their love defeated even those odds. 

As the credits rolled, I said, somewhat jokingly, “Will you love me like that when I’m old and don’t know who you are anymore?” 

Dave “hmphed” and leaned forward to turn down the volume, resting his elbows on his knees.  As he turned his head to look at me, I saw a single tear rolling down his cheek.  My own tears quickly pooled at the sight of his emotion, and my mind began to whirl, trying to figure out what had moved him so deeply.  The movie was good, but not that good.  As I settled on a reason, I asked,

“Are you thinking about Grandpop?”  His grandfather had been overtaken by Alzheimer’s before passing away nearly ten years ago.

He smiled and said, “No,” as another tear slipped by.  Quickly wiping it away, he turned to me and said, “I just don’t ever want to live without you.”

My tears flowed freely now as we wrapped our arms around each other and sat there on the couch, listening to the quiet music from the movie.  Only my tears now were not from the sorrow of thinking Dave was experiencing emotional pain from a sad memory, but from the overwhelming realization of the depth of love my husband has for me.  Oftentimes, after watching a romantic movie, I find myself thinking, Does my husband love me like that?  I know deep down that real love seldom wears the sparkly bling that dons the heart of Hollywood, but a girl can dream, and a girl always wonders, Am I that desirable?  But now, sitting there on our faded old couch, in our little red barn in a green valley in Sandy, Oregon, I had my answer.  No bling, no glamour, no Hollywood drama.  Just the real thing, wrapped up in real emotion, and spilling over with joy.

For the last few weeks, that joy has continued.  Every time I think of that moment, a smile creeps across my face and I find myself wanting to run into the arms of my husband and just stay there forever.  There’s a lightness in my step and a fullness in my heart.  It’s not that I ever doubted he loved me, we tell each other often, but to have such an honest, unexpected, deep expression of his love is elating and filling and freeing.  It’s the stuff dreams are made of; it’s a fairytale come true.

It wasn’t until I was at Bible study, and we were reading Sally Lloyd-Jones’ telling of the story of Pentecost from The Jesus Storybook Bible, that God whispered truth into my heart and opened my eyes to another fairytale, just as real and just as true.  As she tells of the Holy Spirit coming upon the disciples, Lloyd-Jones writes:

“They had seen Jesus go away, but now he was closer than he had ever been—inside their hearts.  And this time nothing could ever separate them.  Jesus would always be there.  With them.  Loving them.  Whispering the promise that would get rid of the poison and the terrible lie and the sickness in their hearts.  God’s wonderful promise to them: ‘You are my child.  And I love you.’”

We also read John 15.  Verse 9 says, “As the Father loved Me, I also have loved you; abide in My love.”  Suddenly, it was as if Jesus was there, holding my hand in both of His, tears spilling down His cheeks saying, I didn’t want to ever have to live without you, so I died on the cross for you.  I defeated death itself so we could be together.  You are that desirable.  I love you; I will always love you.  Now live in My love; live free and live full.  I delight in you.  “These things I have spoken to you, that My joy may remain in you, and that your joy may be full” (John 15:11). 

There is no more an honest, deep expression of love than Jesus’ death on the cross.  The real thing, wrapped up in real emotion, and spilling over with joy.  To be filled up with this truth is elating and filling and freeing.  God loves me, fully, wholly, completely.  He delights in me, He desires me.  True story.