Happy!

Happy Christmas!  

We had a wonderful Christmas, thank you for asking.  I hope yours was blessed. 

Our morning was simple, with my parents and brothers coming by to join us for brunch, and to load Lizzie with gifts.  The girl could have gone swimming in her pile of presents.  We didn't even get to her stocking, because the wrapped gifts under the tree were so overwhelming to her that she started throwing a fit.  It was pathetic and hilarious.  We had to confiscate a couple of toys; they were provoking her. 

A wonderful family from church invited us to join them for their Christmas lunch, so we all moved on from our house to their house, and feasted with them.  It was a blessing to be invited for Christmas into a larger family than just our immediate family of six.  Oh, and the food was the most delicious holiday fare I have ever had.  The turkey was marinated overnight in a secret recipe of Spanish mole' and spices, and every bite of it was amazing.  I ate two whole plates of food, and then had a piece and a half of chocolate cake.  I don't know how I managed to eat all that, but I do know that I looked like I got about a month more pregnant in just a matter of hours.  And then I came home and polished off leftover Chinese food.  And a bottle of O'Doul's.  

I have a few pictures, but the camera is not in this room, and I don't want to get up and load them.  I'm sorry, I am really lazy about putting up pictures lately.  You can blame it on the baby.  I know I do.

Happy Chinese Restaurant!

(This is just a little aside, and I don't even know if it fits or not, but here it is anyway.)  On Christmas Eve, I was worn out from Christmas preparations, and flat out refused to make dinner.  So we went out to eat.  It being Christmas Eve, the only thing open were the Asian restaurants, so we tried a new place, "Chinese Restaurant" in a Korean shopping center.  When we pulled up, the sign was in Korean and English.  Then we went in, thinking it was sort of strange, and Sam looked at the menu, because he was really confused.  He was confounded and told me to order--which never happens at a Chinese restaurant--rather, he is always the one who converses in Mandarin with the waitstaff, asking specific questions about the flavors and ingredients of menu items, then asking me if I'd rather have option A or option B.  We finally sat down, and they served us kimchi for an appetizer, along with pickled radishes and plain sliced onions.  Liz was having nothing to do with those appetizers.  She did, however, like the tea in the small cups they served it in.  Anyway, we ordered the food, and it was pretty good; it was not your standard American Chinese food, nor was it your standard Authentic Chinese.  Sam asked the waitress (who was also one of the owners) what the story behind the restaurant was, and she told him that her family was Chinese, but raised in Korea.  And now I know what a Chinese restaurant would be like if I ate at a Chinese restaurant in Korea.  We're going to stick with our usual authentic Chinese restaurants.  Since then we have ordered Chinese food twice.  From different restaurants.


Happy New Year!

Sam starts work on Monday!  He will be working part time at a retail store, and while it's not in his career path, and isn't full time, it is a store he really believes in, and he has so far enjoyed getting to know the guys he will be working with.  And a paycheck is a paycheck is a paycheck, even if it won't be huge.  He will have his eyes open for positions in full time work in construction management or something along those lines, but for now, we are so grateful for this option.  In the meantime, he hopes to become their best employee, so that he can gain the favor and position to determine his schedule and make the job really work for him and our family.

Having Sam at work will be wonderful.  These 6 months (yes, it's been since June) have been trying on us.  Thank the Lord that we have had everything we've needed.  Thank the Lord that Sam had foresight in the past to set aside money.  Thank the Lord that we got a great tax refund for last year.  Thank the Lord for His provision thus far.

Happy Baby!

Yesterday (Wednesday) I had another doctor's appointment.  I'm 12 weeks along now, and almost done with the first trimester.  We got to hear the heartbeat, and it was good and strong.  Even though I haven't anticipated anything going awry, it was so reassuring to hear it.  I was actually supposed to have an ultrasound done (for the neural translucency screening), but I mixed up the appointment time and missed it.  I'm rescheduled for Monday, which unfortunately is when Sam starts work, so he won't get to be there.  He wants me to video-tape it.  I'm not quite sure how that'll work, but I'll try. 

My nausea has been less pronounced than it was a few weeks ago.  Hopefully it is actually starting to let up, and will leave me alone soon.  In the meantime, I have the headcold from hell, and have not been able to smell anything since the day after Christmas.  This may be why I'm not feeling quite as sick to my stomach. 

Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm about to rustle up a bedtime snack of decongestant and toaster strudel and a tall glass of milk.  Good night, and happy new year!

Engaging

When I was growing up, Columbus Day wasn't the romantic holiday it apparently is today.

Within the last ten days three couples in our church have proclaimed their intentions to marry. This might not be a big deal for some, but our church is small, and the last engagement that I recall was in 2005.

Two other young women I know have also received rings for the same reason, in the same time period.

Their joy is contagious. Their faces are beautiful and happy and excited. I didn't know that it was possible, but their eyes sparkle brighter these days. Congratulations, you guys!

All these engagements are reminding me of our story.

I promise we were in our mid-twenties--not in high school!

Our story involves a wild goose chase, white bark, being outrageously late to a banquet, a bad idea, a gibberish conversation with our pastor, plus a good dose of passive aggression. Sounds romantic, right?

To summarize our courtship, Sam and I met while I traveled to Texas to visit mutual friends (mutual mentors, really); I went home and we were acquaintances for about a year until that mentor asked each of us individually if we had ever considered the other "as a spouse?" Each of us said, "No."

The seed was planted.

A few weeks later we started chatting on good old fashioned AIM. Then we started talking on the phone. Then he asked my parents if he could pursue me, and the next week surprised me by arriving at my cubical at work from across the country with a dozen red roses, my brother, and a camera. That is another story.

Our engagement, however, occurred over the weekend of New Year's. Sam managed to hatch a terrific plan, involving several people, including our pastor and his wife. We were sent on a false errand to a lake so that we could get away from a crowd of friends, many of them from out of town. I always like to hang out, so he was smart to give us a definite purpose in order to get me alone.

As we drove, I began to get more and more stressed. You see, our church has had a New Year's Eve banquet every year, and it is kind of one of our highlights of the year. I was looking forward to it because it would be special to be there on someone's arm. We were still in our jeans, and we were supposed to be at the banquet in the next 90 minutes, dressed up, and with our white bark.

White bark?

Yes, as I understood it, we were asked by our pastor's wife to gather some "white bark" for the table decorations for the banquet. These instructions were all second-hand, and being the detail-oriented, punctual, and somewhat control-freaked person I am, the assignment was beginning to stress me out even more.

White bark?

"How will we obtain said white bark? What will we use to lob it off? I mean, do we have scissors or something? Where will we get it?" I don't know why I felt it necessary to point out our unpreparedness.

"Don't worry, we will find some up at the dam."

My mind was running circles, and they were beginning to spiral downward more quickly, like vultures coming closer to the carrion. Isn't it controlled by the Army Corps of Engineers? Won't we be arrested for cutting bark off of trees? If we are supposed to bring it back to decorate, we need to get there back before it starts, and there's just no way it's going to happen.

I finally convinced Sam, "Maybe you should call and ask for more specific directions."

You have to understand that our pastor is a wonderful, loving man, who has served for over 50 years. He is probably like what you would expect Elijah would have been like: bearded, strong, sharp, a little gruff, and as ready to fight for his family or flock as a papa bear. There is nothing mean about him, nor is there anything nonsensical about him.

So when Sam called him to ask him about where to find this bark, and how to get to the lake, and where to turn, both of them pretending they were truly discussing the finer details of obtaining branches for centerpieces, it must have been one of the most odd phone conversations either of them had had in quite a while. The phone call still didn't calm me.

By the time we reached the lake, I was so frustrated that I was close to tears. This is not typical of me; anger is not something I have much of an issue with, but I was genuinely angry. Sam was clearly a little unsettled because I was so upset. Still, when we pulled up to a parking area, and the headlights shone on tall pine trees, he began to laugh, "This is so funny!"

"Sure it is. We're going to be late! I don't know what we're supposed to be getting! Where is this stupid bark?" My voice was deadpan. "This. Bark. Is. Not. White."

"This is hilarious!"

At this point I was glaring out the window. It was just past sunset, the trees silhouettes against the lake.

Sam pauses and laughs again, then as he opens his door to exit the car, he says, "Maybe this was a bad idea."

Idea? I watched him come around the front of the car to open my door.

Wait a second. This is a pretty place. This is New Year's Eve. We're away from the crowd of friends we had been surrounded by all weekend. Way to put my foot in my mouth.

I willed myself to calm down. To be civil. To be pleasant.

We walked to a stone bench, beside a park map. An overhead spotlight lit the area. The stars were out.

He asked, "Are you okay?"

"Yes." Then realized I was not okay, and that I should be honest. "No! ... Well, yeah."

"You're sure?"

"Yes, I promise; I'll be nice to you. Just give me a minute."

Sam patiently talked me into being relaxed and not angry anymore, making gentle conversation, being sweet to me, and making sure I still loved him, even though he brought me out there under false and confusing pretenses.

Of course I still loved him.

After a little while I relaxed, enjoying his words, his arm around my waist, and sitting with him in the cool air and starry night. As we sat on the cold bench, Sam continued to talk, and I gave careful answers, my heart racing and my eyes wide; I was finally catching on. Eventually as he talked about purpose and family and other things that I wish I could remember, he said after a pause, "We should get married."

Is this really it? "Yeah, I think we should."

"You think?" He was smiling now.

"Yeah...." So was I.

Sam slipped to his knees and out of his pocket came a little box, and he asked me classically, "Will you marry me?"

I accepted and we laughed and stayed out in the cold for a few more minutes. Finally it was alright that we didn't have to get that white bark; incidentally it was supposed to be White Pine branches, but it was lost in translation. Finally it didn't bother me at all that we were going to be late to our banquet. We had good reason! And what a story to tell!

In Which I Lock the Baby in the Truck

I thought the keys were in my pocket.

The morning started smoothly enough. It was a perfect, clear, sunny day--the kind that you wish were the norm every day of the year: chilly in the morning, and dazzlingly bright and warm by lunch time.

On a mission to find size 2T long sleeved shirts, I packed up Lizzie, the stroller, and a cup of Cheerios to hit one of the local thrift stores, where they have all clothes half off on Wednesday. Half off? Why don't I go there more often? I collected a handful of toddler shirts, pants, and a velveteen dress, plus a couple of kitchen accessories, paid for them with a $5 and two $1's, dropped the shopping bag in the truck, then walked to the big pet store chain in the same parking lot. The Guinea pigs were a hit, and we made friends with the kittens for adoption.

It was getting to be close to lunchtime, so we made our way back to the truck. I loaded Liz into the car seat, and hit the clicker, so all the peripheral doors would lock. Because it's safer that way. She was settled, was chowing down on her Cheerios, and I shut the door to throw the stroller in the back.

And then I froze.

There were the keys.

On the seat.

Inside the truck.

With my baby.

Who was happily chewing, smiling, and kicking her sneaker-clad feet. She held out the cup of Cheerios, offering them to me.

I smiled, waved, and pulled my cell phone out of my jeans' back pocket. Thank God I at least had the phone on my person. "It's OK, baby. Hi, honey!" I say, listening to the phone ring on the other end of the line. "Eat your Cheerios. Don't drop them!"

Maybe one of the doors wasn't all the way closed. I walked around the vehicle. Nope, they're all soundly latched.

Still no answer. I wave to Lizzie from the other side of the truck. "Pick up, pick up! Oh, please, Jesus! Make Sam pick up his phone!" Sam doesn't always hear or acknowledge his phone ringing.

Voicemail.

I hung up and dialed a second time, and he answered. "Sorry, my mom was talking to me--" I cut him off.

"I need you to come. I locked Lizzie in the truck."

"You lost Lizzie?!" Oh, thank God I didn't lose her!

"No, she's here, I locked her in the Suburban. I need you to come with a key."

"I'll be right there."

We live only about 5 minutes away from the shopping center where I was stuck, so I knew if we could all just avoid tears, everything will be OK.

Looking back, I'm glad no one called the authorities; I could have looked suspicious the way I was hovering outside a huge SUV, peering in the passenger window, and then nervously panning the parking lot and passing traffic. I think I freaked out the Hispanic girls getting back to their Beetle parked next to me. They loaded up their goods as quickly as they could, avoiding eye contact (not that I was trying to draw attention to myself in this embarrassing situation), and keeping a good distance from me.

L was completely oblivious. She was having a grand time. As long as she did not spill her entire open cup of Cheerios before her daddy showed up with a spare key, she would continue to be fine. But I worried, because I didn't want to have to try to console her from the other side of the locked door.

We played peek-a-boo. We blew kisses. We pointed at each other and laughed. She picked up individual Cheerios and held them out to me, as though I could bite them out of her fingers through the window. I commanded her to not drop them. We signed "I love you" (our version, anyway).

And then Lizzie signed "Jesus loves me" with the biggest pleased grin on her face. My heart stopped.

Little ones to Him belong, they are weak but He is strong. Over the past few days I had begun teaching her the song, but I didn't get a lot of feedback from her. "Strong" is Lizzie's favorite part of the song, because she flexes her arms and grunts, then laughs.

"That's right, baby, Jesus loves you. He's right there with you, even if Mama isn't in the truck with you." She was so happy, so content. So assured that she was safe. From that moment, our waiting was full of the peace of God.

Another few minutes passed before Sam pulled up, in full running gear, and we unlocked the truck. Rejoicing, I got in the car. I am thankful because though it was inconvenient, frustrating, and one of those really embarrassingly dumb moments, nothing traumatic happened; and I am also thankful because Sam had not left for his 3 mile run while I was out, which would have made his prompt assistance impossible. The rest of the day was uneventful; we drove home, had lunch, read stories, kept the laundry going.

And all afternoon, dwelling in my mind were the words, Never will I leave you; never will I forsake you. Hebrews 13:5