A Veil was Pulled Back.

Last night we had dinner with a couple in our church. They are as old as Jason and my parents, and their youngest just graduated from high school in May. They wanted to have a formal blessing for her, in front of the church, and they asked Jason and I to write a song for it. So they asked us to come over to get a better idea of what they were looking for in this song.
Now, to get the full effect of this story, you need to know that Jason and I barely know this couple. We have talked to them only a few times, and had one bad experience with the wife (although she didn't know it). I also must admit that my perception of the wife was that she was a hard personality for me to gel with. We were expecting this dinner to be ackward, and that everyone would be watching the clock for an appropriate time for us to pack up our kiddos and go home.
When we arrived (after first stopping at the wrong house where a man pushed his large, barking dog inside and came out to see why we were standing on his lawn), dinner wasn't quite ready. The wife acted a little ansty; like she wanted her husband to hurry up with the grilling so that we could get this thing over with. She pulled out toy horses and blocks for the girls, showed us her daughter's senior pictures, and we all made small talk. I was a little preoccupied with Elsie during dinner (she's into dropping food lately), but Jason asked some good questions, and the husband is a good talker. I found myself being entertained by their stories (when I wasn't taking Natalie to the bathroom).
Later they let us listen to the tape of the blessing for their son, which included two songs they played for him. That tape did several things for me.

Before the first song had started the wife was crying, and I remembered how she teared up when we looked at the DVD of her daughter's pictures. The first song played: a lullaby they had dedicated their son to at three months old. When the second song started Jason recognized it immediately, but I didn't until the chorus. Funny; I'd listened to that song lots of times on the radio without ever realizing what it was about. I never knew it was about letting go.
The wife closed her eyes, and mouthed every word of the song. Soon we could hear her sniffing, and I was getting sentimental as the meaning of the song sunk in. Before the song was over the wife was sobbing, and her husband moved to sit on the ottoman in front of her so he could comfort her. Then I realized that he had been softly singing the words of the song all along.

She was surprised that her children had grown up already. Surprised to find that her house was empty, even while her heart was so full. She was as shocked as I was last friday, when I woke up and my baby had her fourth birthday. But her babies didn't have birthdays at her house anymore.
I looked at my girls, seeing more strikingly than ever, that my time with them was short. That one day Natalie would stop asking for every Dora or Diego shirt that she saw. That one day Elsie wouldn't want me to kiss her ouchies. That one day they would no longer need me to cook dinner for them. And that one day, they would not be the first people I saw in the morning. That I wouldn't even see them everyday.
That tape also made me take a closer look at this couple in front of me. They were just ordinary people. They loved God, and they loved their family. The anxiousness I noted in the wife before dinner was anxiousness to get things ready for me, not because she wanted to get rid of me. Her personality might not be the same flavor as mine, but she has a good heart. And she loves God.

How easy it is to judge a person's entire being based upon a few select glimpes of them. How easy it is to discount the importance of now, when the people or circumstances in "now" have lost their sqeaky, shiny newness. I left that house feeling humble, and certain that I wanted God more so that I could better appreciate the people He has put in my family, and also His.

No heart for "I heart" here.

I'm sure you've seen it: I heart New York, I heart blogging, I heart so and so, I heart such and such. United Live's newest CD is "I Heart Revolution." It seems like everyone uses this phrase, and I have to say . . . I'm not a fan.

I first heard it when that movie came out, I Heart . . . uh . . . well, I can't remember anymore what it was they hearted. I just remember seeing the promo and thinking that the name of the movie was so dumb. Uh, hello? The heart represents the word love. You're supposed to say love. Everyone knows that. "Heart" is not a verb. Get your parts of speech right, people who wrote -- what was the name of that movie? I also thought that the movie was going to be dumb, no one would go see it, and the phrase "I heart" would die out quickly.

Hmm. Not so much.

So then I thought I'd get used to it, and like it after awhile. Maybe even use the phrase myself. After all, I used to not like flaired pants. Can you say "hippy throwback?" I mean, what serious person would want to wear those? Until one day I had to have a pair or continue to suffer from tapered pants insecurity (incidently, now that tapered pants are back in style, I don't like them).

And then there were pointy-toed heels. Yuck. So yuck. Yeah. I have a pair upstairs now.

And belted shirts. Just bought one of those last weekend.

So I kept waiting, and waiting. Then I few days ago, someone said "I heart" in their blog comment and I wanted to scream, "Enough already! Enough. Already."

And so it occurs to me that sometimes . . . sometimes, I don't like trendy things.

I wore pearls in my wedding, although EVERYONE was wearing diamonds. I didn't even really do that on purpose, I have nothing against diamonds. My dress just happened to be decked out with a pearl design instead of a diamond one. But afterwards, I was a little proud. And tiaras -- I did NOT want to wear a tiara. Everyone else wore a tiara. So I wore flowers in my hair. And loved them. So pretty. I thought maybe I would start a new trend with that one, but I guess not. I don't think I'm really the sort of person who starts trends. Just snarls at them from afar. Until, of course, I cave in and like them.

Two weighty situations.

Our family went on vacation this past weekend. I plan on another post this week full of pictures and funny things Natalie said. But I was hit twice with another train of thought, and I feel like I have to go there.

The first part of our vacation was spent with the girls, and while all four of us were in the car, I looked up to see a motorcycle in the opposite lane, on its side, spinning furiously. We were about three cars back from the accident that had just happened, but we could see people rushing out of their cars to the sight. Several (including us) whipped out cell phones and dialed 911. The two riders had landed partly in our lane, and we could see a woman administering CPR. I have to give credit to the police, who arrived quickly and directed traffic out of the area. As we passed I caught the face of the driver on the ground. It was the whitest white I've ever seen on a face.

For the next two days we followed news about the accident online. The motorcycle had hit a van pulling on to the street from a parking lot. The driver died the next day. The other rider, a boy, died the day after that. We had prayed for them, that God would grant mercy and another chance to know Him if they hadn't already made that decision.

For the second part of our vacation, we left the girls with some friends and headed out as a twosome. The next day at brunch, we got a call from a friend. She had our girls now, she explained. The brother of the mom we'd left the girls with was in a car accident, and passed away.

I don't know that I have any profound thoughts that would make this post any better. I guess I just wanted to share the obvious: that life is short and we should enjoy it. That we should take safety precautions. This weekend I was so thankful for any time I'd almost had a car accident, and didn't. So thankful for divine protection.
On the drive home, Jason and I listened to a podcast where a preacher mentioned "living in mystery." I'm glad I know the One who knows the answer to every question.

Why I am NOT the next Food Network star.

These are the cupcakes I made for Elsie's first birthday. Um . . . do they look like butterflies to you?
Of course not. That's because you've seen butterflies before.

Man, oh man, I stressed myself out over those cupcakes. They took a long time to make, and the entire time I kept imagining what they would be. In my head they were going to be artistic and culinary genius, and instead -- well, they tasted good.

I was actually close to tears as I was decorating them and watching the horror in front of me. I told Jason I was embarrassed to serve them to our friends. He, being sensible, said he couldn't see why not. Of course, I did serve them to our friends, and of course, all of them were too nice to mention the butterflies', uh, uncomely looks.

Sometimes I feel like my dreams are like those cupcakes. Really great in my head, but if I were to actually play them out they would flop. I mean, everyone has big dreams, right? And not everyone gets to see the fulfillment of them, right? So who am I, little I, to try and do anything?

Our church has been reading a book together called, "Victorious Mindsets." And yesterday's reading was titled, "I do small things in a great way." The basic idea was this: you can do anything in a mediocre way. But you probably won't do big things in a great way unless you've been practicing by doing small things in a great way. And I personally tend to think that big things don't even getting handed to you unless you've been doing the small things in a great way. It was a lesson I'd heard before, but needed to hear again. If I want to write great things, then shouldn't I practice by making up great bedtime stories and silly songs? If I want to be an awesome mommy, then shouldn't I put my personal, immediate wants aside to fulfill my child's? If I want to be a spectacular wife, then shouldn't I practice thinking about my husband more than I think about me?

Well, I should, by golly. So here's to practice making perfect. 'Cause, like the Vocal Coach says, "perfect practice prevents poor preformance."

Experiencing technical difficulties.

Erg. I just published a new post, but it was from a draft I had saved before the post you see just below this one. So if you wouldn't mind looking below that post, you'll see what I had to say today. Thank you.