Over Forty Three Years of True Love

He saw her from across the crowded cattle truck that was about to take their youth groups up the mountain to Hartland Christian Camp. Nudging his friend, he pointed at her and said, "I'm gonna marry her some day." They were in 6th grade. He was convinced she was the one and she didn't know he existed.

Their senior year of high school he grew his hair out. Not shoulder length or anything (don't get crazy). He just went from a crew cut to a short cut. It was a matter of maybe an inch but it made all the difference because, as legend has it, she finally noticed him.

Five years later, on December 19, 1970, they got married.

And oh the fires their marriage has been through in those 43 years. I don't need to go into detail but suffice it to say, they had 3 "wonderful" children whom God used to refine them in ways I'm sure they never could've imagined.

They chose each day who they would serve and who they would love. My parents set and maintained their priorities: God, each other, and then us kids. We were never first or second on the list and that is a huge part of why they are still in love today.

Happy Anniversary Mom and Dad! You're the best parents I've ever had! :)

Heaven and Earth: The difference is a head tilt

With the slightest adjustment of my gaze, from looking below the horizon to looking above it, everything changes. 

All it takes is a head tilt and the things of earth really do grow strangely dim and out of focus.

And then I blink.
And find myself looking down again.

But, I'm reassured right before the blink that heaven is real and that in the twinkling of an eye we'll all be home.

Skydiving = ________? You fill in the blank.

I was looking through my nightstand and a paper fell out. I unfolded it to find these words. They apply to so many subjects…


I want to go skydiving. I really, really do. How many years have I been saying that?! 10? 12? I want to face my fears, be adventurous, and do it already!

Or do I?

I do the research, pay the deposit, talk to experts, and set a timeframe. I even tell people about it. Everyone's excited and supportive, EAGER for me to have this experience.

I'm nervous. Well, terrified actually. Turns out when given the opportunity, I'd rather stay in the plane where it feels safe and familiar. I like it up here, flying solo, it's what I've done for years and I'm pretty good at it. At least I'm good at acting like I'm good at it. I'm afraid of failure, embarrassment, and rejection. So I stay on the plane.

I think I need a push, a swift kick, someone to shove me out, or maybe a hand to hold on the way down. But I abhor feeling forced, pressured, or guilted into doing anything. My stubborness wells up in me like a flame that refuses to be extinguished. I resist even the most appealing, deepest desire of my heart. Why? Out of fear. Self defense. Protection.

I think I'm guarding my heart but what I'm really doing is sitting on a plane talking about how much I want to go skydiving.