Tag Archives: love

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A moment

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All it takes is the mention of your name and I drift away from the moment.
My mind turns to my memories of you: your smile, your laugh, your touch, the scent of your cologne.
Reality fades into a dream world as the memories of you move to the fore-front of my mind.
In the midst of the swirl of activity, I go to that place and I’m still safe and protected with you.
You are always there and my heart beats a little faster at the thought of seeing you again.
Sadly, reality refuses be shoved to the side for very long and as quickly as the memories come, you are gone.
But for a moment, a precious moment, you were there, a reminder of how blessed I was to have you in my life.
I will be back. For your name is never far from my lips. I’ll be there to snatch another memory, another moment with you.
For it’s in my memories where love still lives.

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Your Story

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Recently, a friend commented while watching a man riding his bike through the traffic “I wonder what his story is?” We all have a story. And, there is someone in the world that can benefit from your story. You just have to be willing to share it.

I used to believe that I had a very boring story. I grew up in a happy and content family. My parents were living examples of “til death do you part.” My siblings and I got along. My parents were known as the “cool parents.” I grew up in church and became a Christian when I was 10 years old. I graduated from high school at the top of my class and had the pick of which university I wanted to attend. I chose a small east Texsas college and graduated in 4 years. Never a big partier, I was involved with the Baptist Student Ministry and travelled on weekends to sing at churches in the area. I had a job offer that I accepted before I finished my senior year. As I moved on into adulthood, I lived a kind of charmed life. So, when I was asked to share my story, I did it with little excitement and maybe a bit apologetically.

As I matured, I realized that there were people that found value in my story. Even my boring story was important to someone. As a heart-broken single adult, a new bride, an expectant mom or a tired parent, I could share my experiences. This caused others to share their own stories and we built community together on those experiences.

But the true value of sharing my story has become most evident recently. For my story of a charmed life has taken a new twist. Grief has painted a different patina on my view of life. Things that were once boring are now priceless. I’ve learned not to take the ordinary for granted, because it is often the ordinary that becomes extraordinary in every day life. My story is one of brokenness and survival. It’s a story of God’s continuing blessings in a dark and horrible time. And as I tell my story and listen to the stories around me, my heart heals a little more.

Every story is important. Every story needs to be heard. What’s your story?

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Eights Years Later

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A close friend asked me this weekend if Valentine’s Day was any easier eight years after losing my husband. Without much thought, I answered “No.” After some thought, I think I will amend or at least explain my answer.

Valentine’s Day (although very commercial) is the day we celebrate love. In my ideal world, it’s the day of hand-written notes and super gooey expressions of love. It’s an excuse to go all out to tell someone that they’re special and loved. Now, Terry was not a super romantic. He tried, and he had his moments, but it was work for him. He was under the (mistaken) impression that one box of cheap candy from Wal-greens was enough for the whole family on Valentine’s Day. He did find ways to make it a day of special remembrances. I still have the last Valentine’s card he gave me. It’s silly and I cherish it.

The first few years after Terry died, I HATED February 14. It was a reminder of everything I had lost, the life that was stolen from me. Terry made me laugh and cry. He made me angry and helped me to calm down. He loved me deeply and completely. He was my confidante and my co-conspirator. He was always there, always ready. We shared our biggest dreams, our deepest fears, our greatest hopes. How do I “get over” losing that one person that was such a huge part of my world? I never will.

This year, eight years later, I don’t say that “I Hate” February 14. The day is not as crippling to me as it has been in the past. But, I still mourn what I’ve lost. I confess that I look around at the roses being delivered to the office and I am envious. I miss being special and having a special someone to shower with love and silly gifts and cards. I would like to have one of those special Valentine’s Day dinners with someone other than one of my kids. I wonder as I look at couples if they really understand how wonderful it is to be a couple. Do they just take it all for granted?

So, my answer is remains “No.” I close my eyes and try to return to those days when I was cherished. I try to remember feeling safe and loved and special. I give thanks for the love I did know. And, on those dark days that still overtake me on occasion, I ask “Why?” No, it’s not any easier after eight years.

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Thankful

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Tonight I was the entertainment at a Valentine’s Party. I was asked to do about an hour and a half of romantic music. It’s been over twenty years since I’ve done this kind of music. Did I tell you I was asked on Wednesday evening?

I has to find music that I could play and sing. That’s no easy task in today’s world. You can’t just walk into a music store and find a huge selection of piano music. And love songs are even harder to find. But, I did find some show tunes and several wedding books of love songs that would work.

I was the only ‘single’ person there. As I sang “When I Fall in Love,” I wondered if these couples realized how blessed they are to have each other. Thoughts of those first days of marriage flew through my mind during “We’ve Only Just Begun.” And I silently thanked God for the love I had when I sang “Keeper of the Stars.” I just wish I had told Terry that more often.

I try to avoid Valentines Day in most cases. It’s too easy to focus on what is missing instead of the true blessing I was given. I had 18 years with a man that thought I was beautiful and loved me deeply. Tonight, I remembered.

“So I tip my hat to the keeper of the stars
He sure knew what he was doin’
When he joined these two hearts
I hold everything
When I hold you in my arms
I’ve got all I’ll ever need
Thanks to the keeper of the stars

It was no accident me finding you
Someone had a hand in it
Long before we ever knew.”

Excerpt from “The Keeper of the Stars” by Tracy Byrd

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Valentine’s Day

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Some have known great love in life. This day is bittersweet. A time of cherished memories.

Some enjoy great love now. This day is a day to celebrate that blessing.

Some look forward to a great love. This is a day for joy and anticipation.

Let us all take the opportunity to show love to those God places into our paths on this day.

“If I could speak all the languages of earth and of angels, but didn’t love others, I would only be a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal. If I had the gift of prophecy, and if I understood all of God’s secret plans and possessed all knowledge, and if I had such faith that I could move mountains, but didn’t love others, I would be nothing. If I gave everything I have to the poor and even sacrificed my body, I could boast about it; but if I didn’t love others, I would have gained nothing.

Love is patient and kind. Love is not jealous or boastful or proud or rude. It does not demand its own way. It is not irritable, and it keeps no record of being wronged. It does not rejoice about injustice but rejoices whenever the truth wins out. Love never gives up, never loses faith, is always hopeful, and endures through every circumstance. Prophecy and speaking in unknown languages and special knowledge will become useless. But love will last forever!

Now our knowledge is partial and incomplete, and even the gift of prophecy reveals only part of the whole picture! But when the time of perfection comes, these partial things will become useless.

When I was a child, I spoke and thought and reasoned as a child. But when I grew up, I put away childish things. Now we see things imperfectly, like puzzling reflections in a mirror, but then we will see everything with perfect clarity. All that I know now is partial and incomplete, but then I will know everything completely, just as God now knows me completely.

Three things will last forever—faith, hope, and love—and the greatest of these is love.”
(1 Corinthians 13:1-13 NLT)

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Things I wish I’d said.

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There’s nothing more frustrating than to walk away from a conversation and then think of what you wish you had said. I always think of the wittiest comebacks, the sharpest digs and the best advice after I walk away. I guess that’s why I like the written word so much: I have time to think. I can rearrange sentences and thoughts, review everything for hints of idiocy, and just wait to be sure that’s what I wanted to say. But, today waits for no one and I can’t always weigh every word or thought too carefully.

We’ve all heard “If you can’t say something nice, don’t say anything at all.” And in most cases I would have to agree. Too often, we substitute sarcasm for conversation. The definition of sarcasm is “the use of words that mean the opposite of what you really want to say especially in order to insult someone, to show irritation, or to be funny.” It’s too easy to be sarcastic and stay away from open dialog. If I’m on the offensive, sarcasm is my best weapon. I’m learning to just be quiet. But don’t confuse being nice with avoidance. Sometimes the “nicest” thing to say isn’t the “best” thing to say. The hard truth is often necessary and even kinder in the long-term. But, I will fall back (too often) into not upsetting anyone, say nothing and then regret it later. All of my words need to be thoughtful and caring.

Still, the words that I wish I’d said swirl around in my head. The regrets for opportunities missed will overwhelm me if I dwell on them. I cannot go back in time and say the things I neglected to say. So, I have made a promise to be generous with compliments. I will make the extra effort to make the person on the elevator smile. I will say “I love you” whenever possible. I will tell the people who mean the most to me how I feel. I will be truthful and honest and loving all at the same time. I never want to regret words not spoke, actions not taken, love missed.

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Invisible

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I’m an expert at being invisible. I find it easy to blend into the crowd and just disappear. It’s easy to be invisible in a room full of people. Whether it’s a professional function or as a visitor at a new church or in a group of friends, I can be virtually invisible. I choose to lurk around the edges and wonder if someone, anyone will see me.

Sometimes I desperately want to be seen, to be noticed. But what if no one notices me? Or worse, what if I do get noticed and then ignored. If I become visible to just one person, I can no longer hide behind my invisibility cloak. I’m then at risk of being left out, laughed at, or unpopular.

I’ve been blessed through the years to have people in my life that truly see me. These true friends pull me from edges and into life. They refuse to let me retreat into the solitude of invisibility. These are the friends that challenge me to step out into the light. They urge me to share my feelings and dreams, my sorrows and fears. They dare me to do life out in the open. They love me as I am, not for what I could be. They allow me to return that love in my very own obsessive/compulsive way.

I still struggle with my tendency to fade into the background and disappear. I still struggle with questions about why anyone would care about me. And, I give thanks everyday for those faithful few that continue to love me.

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The Doll

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She was a beautiful doll made of delicate porcelain. Her face was painted with the utmost care. Her dress was taffeta and was edged in delicate french lace. Beautiful red hair fell in delicate ringlets around her shoulders. The utmost care had gone into her creation. She was exquisite, not a blemish of any kind could be seen. The squeals of delight could be heard throughout the house as the little girl opened the box and saw her special gift.

At first, the little girl was careful with her gift. She held the doll carefully and just gazed at her beauty. As the days passed, her excitement began to wane. She was no longer content to just look at the beautiful doll. A tea party was setup for all of the toys with red fruit punch and chocolate chip cookies. In the blink of an eye, the beautiful doll’s dress was smudged with chocolate and stained red from the punch. She was still beautiful, just not quite perfect.

As the days turned to weeks and the weeks into months, the beautiful porcelain doll was hard to recognize. Her once beautiful ringlets were gone, cut-off with the snip of little brother’s scissors. What was left of her hair covered a large crack caused from falling off of the bed one night. The beautiful painted face was now smudged with the remnants of crayon “lipstick” and sharpie “eye-shadow”. Her beautiful dress was in tatters and had been removed so the poor doll was covered only by the blanket wrapped around it. And then one day, in a fit of temper, the once beautiful doll was thrown against the wall and her right leg was broken off at the knee. She was no longer special, no longer perfect. She was soon left in the closet, forgotten by the little girl who had seemed to love her so much.

Years later, the little girl grew into a young woman and had her own little girl. While searching through yesterdays toys, the once beautiful porcelain doll was once again discovered amidst squeals of delight. The doll was carefully held and gazed at once again. The young woman remembered the special doll and wished she had taken better care of it. She took the little doll to an expert in restoring dolls. The doll was cleaned, repaired and dressed in a beautiful new dress. When the young woman once again gazed upon her precious gift, she was amazed to see the beauty had been restored. There were still marks that evidenced the lack of care the doll had received, but she was once again a beautiful and delicate doll. A doll that deserved a special place on the display shelf in the young woman’s home. Never again would the doll be subject to not so gentle hands or be left out in the weather. She was special and to be protected.
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Is there a “porcelain doll” in your life? Have you been given a beautiful gift that you abused and cast aside? No matter what we do, God still cares. He is still there. He is the great Restorer.

Let me hear joy and gladness; let the bones you have crushed rejoice.
Hide your face from my sins and blot out all my iniquity.
Create in me a pure heart, O God, and renew a steadfast spirit within me.
Do not cast me from your presence or take your Holy Spirit from me.
Restore to me the joy of your salvation and grant me a willing spirit, to sustain me.
Psalm 51:8-12

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A Best Friend

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I hear the term “best friend” or BFF in conversations all the time. So what is a best friend?

A best friend:
Loves me for who I am and sometimes in spite of who I am.
Will be there to laugh and to cry.
Picks up on my moods and is honest when I’m just being a whiner.
Recognizes when I need a hug and steps up to the challenge.
Will defend me to others when necessary.
Is an encourager when I’m discouraged or frightened or hurt.
Never hesitates to tell me what I need to hear even if I don’t want to hear it.
Celebrates even the smallest victories.
Spends time with me “just because.”
Is never embarrassed to be seen with me.

This is the kind of friend I want. And, it’s the kind of friend I want to be.

A friend loves at all times. He is there to help when trouble comes. (Proverbs 17:17 NIRV)

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Keep it in/Keep them out

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“Frozen” is a popular animated movie that’s out right now. It’s popular with children and adults that see it. The movie is loosely based on Hans Christian Anderson’s fairy tale of the battle between good and evil, “The Snow Queen”.

In “Frozen” the older sister, Princess Elsa, has the power (or curse) to freeze anything she touches. In an effort to protect Elsa and her younger sister, Elsa’s parents lock her away from everyone. They tell her she must “conceal, don’t feel, don’t let them know.” She has a secret. She doesn’t want anyone to know about her icy touch. She hides and shuts herself off from the very people who love her. As a result she never learns to control this power, but instead it controls Princess Elsa. Through a series of events, Elsa’s icy power is revealed and she runs away. As she sings about finally being free to be herself she uses the phrase “The cold never bothered me anyway” to dismiss the loneliness of her life.

Wow. Can you relate to this story? Not with Elsa’s icy touch, but with the power of the hidden, being controlled by the very secret we keep. I can. I want to be accepted. I want to fit in with the people around me. In order to do that, I try to be perfect. I want to be an individual, but I don’t want to be too different. (Can you say oxymoron?) I don’t admit to emotions I might be feeling, hiding the less than perfect parts of my life. I go with the flow because it’s easier. And, acceptable.

What would happen if I actually said what I wanted to say? What if I was honest with myself and with those around me and didn’t hide any longer? Would my life be different? It might be. I might have to learn to live the light instead of creeping around in the shadows. I might lose the ‘friends’ who prefer the people pleaser to the real me. I might learn that I’m valuable just the way I am.

I’m not advocating losing all of the filters we use in life. I don’t need to discuss/reveal everything to everyone I meet. But, when I shape my life to suit the people around me, to avoid offending anyone, to be acceptable at any expense, that’s when I need to take a look at what’s going on inside of me. Sometimes, it’s easier to slam the door on openness than to expose the vulnerable parts we protect so jealously.

Eventually, Princess Elsa learns she can’t hide from her fears. Viewed through the lens of love her terrible secret isn’t so bad. We just have to take the chance, to allow ourselves to be vulnerable. Sure, there will be days, weeks and maybe months of pain and hurt. But, there will be moments of love and pure joy too. We just have to step out and take a chance.