20 Love Letters

June 30, 2014
Dear Sweetheart,
Twenty years ago a couple of crazy kids had their first date on St. Patrick's day, became engaged in April, and got married in June. It was a whirlwind romance, and I've never stopped spinning. What can I possibly do to show my love for you? On this, our 20-year mark, I'd like to give you a love letter for each year, for you to savor one by one.

1994: Our courtship was so fast this is one of only two pictures 
taken before our engagement!

1994 On our second date, I borrowed my sister's black top with that 1980s-fashionable sweetheart neck and wore daringly wide-leg jeans with boots. After dinner at the deli (where you gallantly sacrificed your pickle for me), we walked to your old elementary school and talked and talked as we sat on the swings in the dark. You told me about a poem in the college literary journal that you found out was mine that you had loved so much you had shown it to all your friends. I was so flattered. Sitting so near to you, I could almost hear a crackle of electricity between us. A switch inside me flipped. I thought, "This guy is amazing. I could really see myself with him." I just wanted to be with you always. I got my wish. Just over three months later we tied the knot. I'd do it all over again.

1995: Nap time

1995 Fast forward through dating to becoming a dad in 15 all-too-quick months. Fatherhood brought out a whole new side of you that was a wonderful surprise to me. We'd just come home from the birth center with the baby about 9 p.m. We were bone-tired exhausted when he started to cry at 11. We'd both been up at that point for about 36 hours, much of it in labor. You said, "You sleep. I'll stay up with the baby," for what was the first of many times. For two hours you tried to console a screaming infant until you finally came and woke me up: "Honey, I can't get him to stop crying. I think you need to feed him because he's hungry." The crying stopped! Poor you had stayed up two hours trying to calm down a starving baby! But thank you for letting me sleep for those precious two hours!

1996

1996 For our evening entertainment we would sit a few feet apart on the living room floor in our 900-square-foot house with the hand-me-down furniture. Holding up the baby who hated to sit but wouldn't take more than a couple steps on his own, we'd coo with arms outstretched, "Come on, take a step, you can do it!" Over months those staggered steps turned into actual walking, but those room-brightening toothless smiles when he did it were the best reward in the world. I felt like I would burst with joy looking at you and our precious toddler, our love made flesh.

1997 I wanted to beautify our house, so even though we were poor as mice, you scraped together enough to paint the ugly brown house trim a lovely gray and hammer together some teal green shutters. We planted roses and a twig of a tree and some grape vines from my dad. I knew you loved me because you wanted me to be happy and to live in a lovely home. You took such good care of us.

1998

1998 Another new baby brought more sleepless nights. You would sit in the rocking chair endlessly, and when you carefully inched your way toward the crib, the little limp baby on the shoulder still had bright eyes that were darting around. Back to the rocking chair. Or that was when you would put him in the baby swing, wind it up to maximum, and lie down on the couch! Thanks for letting me get a few hours sleep in a row. Again.

Indebted

Last week I learned that my usual pharmacy was out of my medication and would be for a while. It was a little hassle, but after calling around, I found it at another store.

Changing gears for a second: a friend is moving. It is a difficult move, and this is a tough time for her in general. I wanted to give her tulips for her new home because we had connected over the story that sometimes life is like the trip to Italy you always planned...and you ended up in Holland instead.

"Door Country Tulips" by James Jordan

Who would have thought that finding a pot of forced tulips in March would be next to impossible? I went from store to store. I was elated to finally find some at the superstore where I was picking up my transferred prescription. Only thing is, it was going to cost more than I had hoped. Oh, well. I decided the friend was more important and I could massage the budget later.

At the pharmacy I was told in passing that I now had a $25 store credit thanks to my transferred prescription. I was so surprised! I went to the checkout line with the tulips as well as a few groceries even though I had run out of grocery money.

The cost of a good deed...actually paid me.

The thing is, I had to act first--I had to have the desire to serve, find the flowers, go to the store, put them in my cart, and THEN I was ready to receive the completely unexpected blessing.

His Angels Have Us in Their Keeping

photo courtesy www.LDS.org/quote from Elder Henry B. Eyring/design by Jennifer

"There is not one of us but what God’s love has been expended upon. There is not one of us that He has not desired to save, and that He has not devised means to save. There is not one of us that He has not given His angels charge concerning. We may be insignificant and contemptible in our own eyes, and in the eyes of others, but the truth remains that we are the children of God, and that He has actually given His angels—invisible beings of power and might—charge concerning us, and they watch over us and have us in their keeping."
George Q. Cannon

Someone to Watch Over Me

One recent morning, I spent three or four hours straight emailing and calling lots of teachers and school counselors, playing secretary/advocate/cheerleader behind the scenes for my kids. I then spent the rest of the day cleaning, doing laundry, and cooking a nice dinner. Don't get me wrong, I love being able to stay at home.  And I love being my kids' biggest advocate and fan.

But I figured that at the end of the school day, the munchkins would probably barge through the door, grab a snack, and plop down in front of a screen without so much as a hello-mother-how-was-your-day. They would be totally unaware of all of the work I had done on their behalf, work that had an immediate, direct blessing on their lives.

As I pondered, the situation took on a greater meaning for me.

When that teacher called my kid aside after class and said, "I understand you're missing an assignment. You can turn it in tomorrow without a penalty," they may have thought, "Wow, that was lucky. It's like the teacher read my mind."

When the choir uniform just happened to show up on time and paid for, it was wonderful that it everything just feel together so neatly.

When those messy graduation credits somehow worked themselves out, and the counselor called someone down to their office to talk them through it, that was a great coincidence since it had really been a big stress.

How much is going on that we can't see, so we are completely oblivious of it? Who is helping us behind the scenes that we are totally unaware of? I think loved ones--mortal and immortal--are busy smoothing our path, easing our way, comforting and assisting us in ways we can't even imagine. What else would they want to be doing but helping God bring His children home?

The Parable of the Bed Frame

Mr. Jennifer and I were dissatisfied with our bed. It was creaky, so we propped it up on cinderblocks and lost all of the storage space underneath. It had a piece of moulding at the top that poked me in the head and made it impossible to sit in bed without hunching. It was pretty nicked from two moves and lots of kids and pets jumping on it over the years. We purchased this bed frame second-hand-in-the-first-place in 1999, so it had had a good, long life!

I guess over the years I became content to be discontent. It was easier to complain than do something about it. My frustration built up very gradually, but one day, I finally said, "Why am I putting up with this? Life is too short to spend 1/3 of my time in a bed I hate."

But new beds are expensive, right? Fear shuts down the desire for change before we even acknowledge the desire as a real thought.

I was brave. I pushed through the deprivation mentality:

• "I have to hold on to it, even if I'm unhappy, because at least I'll have something." 
• "What if what I want isn't out there?" 
• And even more scary: "What if I don't even know what I want?"

I knew I wanted change, even if I wasn't sure what that was yet. I looked on our local online ads. My exact bed frame was being sold by someone else--for $150! I said, "Well, no one would ever pay that for mine, but instead of hauling it to the dump, how about I throw it out there for $75?"