December 13, 2006
Humor through Amy's eyes
So, I'm pretty sure I was funny once. I just got a message from a long-lost friend from music camp who reminded me that I might have been funny. Or emotionally-damaging. I'm not sure which. I do remember laughing uncontrollably in those high school music camp days. Maybe being around funny people brings out my funnier side. Which brings me to my recent conversation with Paul.
I'm pretty sure Paul is one of the funniest people I know. I mean, he is genuinely good at being funny. Not cheesy funny. Not mean funny. Not smart-aleck funny....and no, I have no idea how to properly spell smart-aleck (alec? alek?). So, we were in the car a few days ago, and I brought up something funny he said in his sermon on Sunday. I asked him how he doesn't just laugh at himself when he does that in his sermons, because I about got an embarrassing case of the giggles. He said that funny people get satisfaction out of making people laugh, but they just know they are funny so there is no need to laugh at themselves. I said, "I don't know. I'm pretty funny, and I make myself laugh all the time." This is something that makes Paul crack up....when I do or say something funny and then crack up at myself. His response was that I am not a naturally funny person, just a person who does funny things.
Then we began this whole talk on the different kinds of humor, and why some things are funny to some people and not to others. For instance, I hate physical comedy. It doesn't even crack a smile to me. According to Paul, however, physical comedy, though not usually funny, can be funny if it is something new, like a guy getting hit in the, um, you know, with a wrench, a la the move Dodgeball. I thought Dodgeball was middle school humor at best. And, I hate cheesy humor. Like when people laugh at cheesy, email forward-type jokes. Not funny to me. But, I LOVE smart-aleck humor. I love when you can trade that kind of humor back and forth. And most people's dads are funny, because they love joking around with a good ol' smart-aleck.
I've also found people who are just downright serious. When you try to be funny around them, you never know if they are taking you the right way. And they just make me fidget from all of the uncomfortable-ness.
So, I don't know what you find funny, and maybe it would be a good study of the human brain. But funny is good stuff. And if you laugh at yourself, I think you just appreciate how funny you really are. And that is okay.
Friday, January 30, 2009
Thursday, January 29, 2009
To You, My Readers
I find that I have a problem with my blog. It is very much my journal of all the fun memories in my life, and it is also my therapeutic catharsis when needed. I love blogging. I do not need to have your comments or approval to continue on with the blogging of the stories of the three-year-old. But I sure would like to have an idea of who all is out there.
Because I hear stories. My mom says, "Oh I was talking to this lady at work, and her daughter reads the blog. And my friend, Barb, reads the blog."
And then every once in a while, Paul says, "Hey, one of my facebook friends said that they read your blog and like it."
And I'm like, "Really? Exactly who are these people?"
Lurkers. Your official bloggy name is Lurkers. And so now I am asking:
All the Lurkers of the world, putcha hands up!
You don't have to create an account. You can be anonymous. Just say something like, "I'm here! And I live in Greenfield!"
Because, let's face it, if I have readers in any part of Indiana, there is a good chance you live somewhere with the word "Green" in your city name.
I'm just trying to figure out who is experiencing this fun, little life with me. And if you don't want to out yourself as "Anonymous", you can still read my blog anyway. I promise to keep writing and not be offended. I'm just curious.
Because I hear stories. My mom says, "Oh I was talking to this lady at work, and her daughter reads the blog. And my friend, Barb, reads the blog."
And then every once in a while, Paul says, "Hey, one of my facebook friends said that they read your blog and like it."
And I'm like, "Really? Exactly who are these people?"
Lurkers. Your official bloggy name is Lurkers. And so now I am asking:
All the Lurkers of the world, putcha hands up!
You don't have to create an account. You can be anonymous. Just say something like, "I'm here! And I live in Greenfield!"
Because, let's face it, if I have readers in any part of Indiana, there is a good chance you live somewhere with the word "Green" in your city name.
I'm just trying to figure out who is experiencing this fun, little life with me. And if you don't want to out yourself as "Anonymous", you can still read my blog anyway. I promise to keep writing and not be offended. I'm just curious.
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
A Better Mother
I got to put into practice something I learned when Abigail was about six months old. Sometimes, in order to be a better, more refreshed version of Mommy, you must have time away from the roost. This time can come in three different forms, but I will only touch on two. Those forms are 1. Date night with hubby, 2. Alone Time, or 3. Girl Time.
When Abigail was around six months old, I had that first rush of alone time. I might have had some before then, but I don't really remember in the haze of nursing. We were on a pretty strict schedule to make sure that I aided in any way of making her thunder thighs the chunkiest in all the land. I had taken her to our college ministry house, where Paul and I spent most of our daytime hours. I asked him if I could leave her there with him and get away for just a bit. He agreed, and I was gone, baby, gone. My time out consisted of me getting an iced mocha from Coffee Junkiez in Muncie (lookout, Starbucks) and walking around WalMart. Now, usually my favorite alone time consists of walking around Hallmark reading the cards, but I don't want to blow all of your minds too quickly. I don't think I bought a thing at WalMart, which is a feat of unearthly proportions, because let's face it, a lot of people smarter than me make a lot of money to make sure I never leave WalMart empty-handed. When I returned to the BCM house, I felt so revived, so energized, after that little hour away.
I was able to cuddle her more and laugh at her more, and even make twinkly eyes toward my husband.
Since then, I try to have little "get-out-of-the-house" moments, even if it is eleven o'clock at night and I wander WalMart under the guise of "buying Pullups." I would gladly wander a Target instead, but there is not one within an hour and a half of me. That trip might be hard to justify.
Last weekend, I had TWO girl times. On Friday, I went to a mini-baby shower ("mini" because it is baby #3, but a boy after two girls). It was near Indianapolis. Abigail stays with Paul for all of these times (to ease your thoughts of Abigail sitting alone watching Caillou), and they usually have a little Date Night of their own. Once I got in the car, I was dancin'. I put my music on nice and loud and drive down the interstate looking like quite the fool, I'm sure. My time with the girls was so fun, and yes, refreshing. The next day, I had coffee with a friend and did just a touch of shopping. Just a very small touch (like gift card touch).
After having Abigail sick for one full week and not going ANYWHERE, and then last week having Paul gone at the March for Life in D.C. for three nights, I was going a little stir-crazy. I never want it to seem like I don't appreciate my family or love the chance to stay home with Abigail. I love it more than anything. But there are just those moments where you gotta get away. Yes, I could have a Calgon moment. But I much prefer a Get In the Car and Go Somewhere moment. Sometimes I don't realize how much I need it until I am away. Then, when I come home, I am full of hugs and lovin's and energy. If an occasional iced mocha makes me a better mother, well, that's just a price I am willing to pay.
When Abigail was around six months old, I had that first rush of alone time. I might have had some before then, but I don't really remember in the haze of nursing. We were on a pretty strict schedule to make sure that I aided in any way of making her thunder thighs the chunkiest in all the land. I had taken her to our college ministry house, where Paul and I spent most of our daytime hours. I asked him if I could leave her there with him and get away for just a bit. He agreed, and I was gone, baby, gone. My time out consisted of me getting an iced mocha from Coffee Junkiez in Muncie (lookout, Starbucks) and walking around WalMart. Now, usually my favorite alone time consists of walking around Hallmark reading the cards, but I don't want to blow all of your minds too quickly. I don't think I bought a thing at WalMart, which is a feat of unearthly proportions, because let's face it, a lot of people smarter than me make a lot of money to make sure I never leave WalMart empty-handed. When I returned to the BCM house, I felt so revived, so energized, after that little hour away.
I was able to cuddle her more and laugh at her more, and even make twinkly eyes toward my husband.
Since then, I try to have little "get-out-of-the-house" moments, even if it is eleven o'clock at night and I wander WalMart under the guise of "buying Pullups." I would gladly wander a Target instead, but there is not one within an hour and a half of me. That trip might be hard to justify.
Last weekend, I had TWO girl times. On Friday, I went to a mini-baby shower ("mini" because it is baby #3, but a boy after two girls). It was near Indianapolis. Abigail stays with Paul for all of these times (to ease your thoughts of Abigail sitting alone watching Caillou), and they usually have a little Date Night of their own. Once I got in the car, I was dancin'. I put my music on nice and loud and drive down the interstate looking like quite the fool, I'm sure. My time with the girls was so fun, and yes, refreshing. The next day, I had coffee with a friend and did just a touch of shopping. Just a very small touch (like gift card touch).
After having Abigail sick for one full week and not going ANYWHERE, and then last week having Paul gone at the March for Life in D.C. for three nights, I was going a little stir-crazy. I never want it to seem like I don't appreciate my family or love the chance to stay home with Abigail. I love it more than anything. But there are just those moments where you gotta get away. Yes, I could have a Calgon moment. But I much prefer a Get In the Car and Go Somewhere moment. Sometimes I don't realize how much I need it until I am away. Then, when I come home, I am full of hugs and lovin's and energy. If an occasional iced mocha makes me a better mother, well, that's just a price I am willing to pay.
Saturday, January 24, 2009
Archive: Boys Will Be Boys
June 28, 2006
Boys will be boys
I am always amazed at the ingrained differences between boys and girls. There is a book written by John Eldridge titled "Wild at Heart". One of the main themes of the book is how God designed men to be wild at heart, to always be seeking adventure, to have this restless side that must have an exciting purpose. So, that has become Paul's excuse for anything he or any boy does that makes me sigh and roll my eyes. He shrugs his shoulders like a little boy and says, "Honey, I can't help it. I'm wild at heart." When we were in Morocco a few years ago standing by the ocean, and Paul got down on the closest rocks by the biggest crashing waves, and ended up having to hang his socks out of a taxi window to dry them out, it was wild at heart. When we were playing with our friends kids a couple of years ago, and were sledding in my parents very cool yard, and Jeremy (our friend's kid, about 9 at the time) decided to walk on the creek by my parents' house that had frozen over, I am frozen with visions of rushing to the emergency room with Jeremy's severed limb on ice. Paul says, "He can't help it. He's wild at heart." That same day, when Paul and Jeremy climed the steepest hill next to my parents' property to sled down it.....without sleds.....and Paul got his pants ripped on rusty barbed wire that was hidden beneath the snow....well, you get the next line.
So, a couple of days ago, I get an email from Paul's older sister, Carey. She has two kids, one of them being 13-year-old Lincoln. He told her to ask Uncle Paul if he had any cool ideas of things to do with old fashioned firecrackers. Carey said he had already rigged up a wire from the shed in their backyard to the house, greased it with cooking oil, tied firecrackers on a toy helicoptor, lit it, and let the explosive helicoptor rip down to the house. But he needed new ideas. When I read the email to Paul, he was impressed with his nephew's ingenuity. I asked if he had any other ideas, and Paul said, "I don't know. Just blow crap up." I emailed this to Carey, while complimenting Lincoln's well-thought stunt. She replied, saying that the greased cord was her idea to keep the fire off their lawn. Lincoln's original idea was to "blow up the helicoptor while throwing it". I still laugh when I type this sentence. I read that to Paul, and he cracked up, saying that was totally something he would do. That, and bottle rocket wars. And those little tanks that you light the rear of, and have them blow up on each other. Wild at heart, for sure. I don't know exactly what the charge is out of petty pyromania for boys, but I'm beginning to believe that the 4th of July was created by a man, for men, just for the opportunity to legally blow crap up. And whatever states that it is not legal to do so, MUST have a woman making the decisions.
But they can't help it. They're wild at heart.
Boys will be boys
I am always amazed at the ingrained differences between boys and girls. There is a book written by John Eldridge titled "Wild at Heart". One of the main themes of the book is how God designed men to be wild at heart, to always be seeking adventure, to have this restless side that must have an exciting purpose. So, that has become Paul's excuse for anything he or any boy does that makes me sigh and roll my eyes. He shrugs his shoulders like a little boy and says, "Honey, I can't help it. I'm wild at heart." When we were in Morocco a few years ago standing by the ocean, and Paul got down on the closest rocks by the biggest crashing waves, and ended up having to hang his socks out of a taxi window to dry them out, it was wild at heart. When we were playing with our friends kids a couple of years ago, and were sledding in my parents very cool yard, and Jeremy (our friend's kid, about 9 at the time) decided to walk on the creek by my parents' house that had frozen over, I am frozen with visions of rushing to the emergency room with Jeremy's severed limb on ice. Paul says, "He can't help it. He's wild at heart." That same day, when Paul and Jeremy climed the steepest hill next to my parents' property to sled down it.....without sleds.....and Paul got his pants ripped on rusty barbed wire that was hidden beneath the snow....well, you get the next line.
So, a couple of days ago, I get an email from Paul's older sister, Carey. She has two kids, one of them being 13-year-old Lincoln. He told her to ask Uncle Paul if he had any cool ideas of things to do with old fashioned firecrackers. Carey said he had already rigged up a wire from the shed in their backyard to the house, greased it with cooking oil, tied firecrackers on a toy helicoptor, lit it, and let the explosive helicoptor rip down to the house. But he needed new ideas. When I read the email to Paul, he was impressed with his nephew's ingenuity. I asked if he had any other ideas, and Paul said, "I don't know. Just blow crap up." I emailed this to Carey, while complimenting Lincoln's well-thought stunt. She replied, saying that the greased cord was her idea to keep the fire off their lawn. Lincoln's original idea was to "blow up the helicoptor while throwing it". I still laugh when I type this sentence. I read that to Paul, and he cracked up, saying that was totally something he would do. That, and bottle rocket wars. And those little tanks that you light the rear of, and have them blow up on each other. Wild at heart, for sure. I don't know exactly what the charge is out of petty pyromania for boys, but I'm beginning to believe that the 4th of July was created by a man, for men, just for the opportunity to legally blow crap up. And whatever states that it is not legal to do so, MUST have a woman making the decisions.
But they can't help it. They're wild at heart.
Friday, January 23, 2009
Archive: Our Anniversary...4 Lessons
This blog was written on the eve of my fourth anniversary to Paul. Two and a half years later...it still makes sense. :)
May 31, 2006
Our anniversary...4 lessons
Tomorrow, June 1st, will be our 4th anniversary. I can still remember all of those feelings from that day. I remember staying up until 4 in the morning the night before talking to my friend, Sadee, and packing for our honeymoon. And because of that late night, I actually slept in on my wedding day! Well, til 9:30, but that was definitely later than I meant to wake up. Much to my surprise, I was not the slightest bit nervous. I knew I was ready for the step Paul and I were about to take. I remember feeling soooo pretty in my wedding dress. It was a feeling I'm sure no other dress will give me in my life. I loved how Evelynn, our little flower girl, looked at me like I was Cinderella. Then again, it was pretty hard to steal the show from Evelynn.
Paul and I agreed to see each other before the wedding, but we went into a room by ourselves for our "unveiling". We teared up as soon as we saw each other. Ironically, we had the same gifts to give each other. My sophomore year of high school, I had started keeping a journal to my future husband. It was just a way for me to keep in perspective that in the midst of teenage dating relationships, I was truly waiting for who God had chosen for me, nameless though he was at the time. Well, when Paul and I were close friends for a year or so before we dated, I told him that I was keeping that journal to give to my husband on our wedding day. He thought that was a great idea, and immediately started writing a journal to his future wife, not knowing at the time that we would be giving those journals to each other! It was a sweet moment for both of us.
I would say in these four years of marriage that have flown by so fast, I have learned many things. For brevity's sake, however, I am going to spout off four lessons I have learned....one for each year of wedded bliss. Awwwwww.
1. Even when we had no clue where we were going in life, which pretty much summed up our first year and a half, we trusted God. We started out in Louisville while Paul was in seminary, then thought we were moving to Dayton, OH (which thank God did not work out), then that we were staying in Louisville, then spent a whole summer in Virginia Beach, then ended up in Muncie, IN. For several months there, we really didn't know what God was doing with us, and things were looking pretty bleak. But we hooked arms and said it would all work out, and it did. We committed to make God our firm foundation in our marriage, and I will never turn back from that.
2. Laugh a lot. I still remember one of our friends asking Paul how married life was when we were only a couple months in, and he said, "Well, we sure laugh a lot." I still carry that with me. It is impossible to live with Paul and not laugh a lot. I mean, a lot. Well, sometimes I try really hard not to laugh, but I always do. When our first year of marriage was just scraping by month to month, and I felt like crying a lot in pity for myself that we had nothing, he would make me laugh and I knew I could hang in there.
3. Believe the best in your spouse. Now, I am still learning this lesson every day. When every sitcom on tv has a wife nagging her husband, and he is always made to look like the stupid one, I believe it is so important to look for the best qualities in your mate. For me, Paul is our leader. He is trustworthy. He makes me laugh. He is so kind. He really, really loves me. He is an overcomer. He is a dreamer, and I like that.
4. Lord, change me. When something just gets under my skin about Paul, and that will definitely happen when married to someone, I have to remind myself that there are things about me that need to be changed. When I want to pray, "God, just change _______ about Paul" I have to ask what God wants to change in me first. I think Paul is much better at ignoring my faults than I am at ignoring his, and therefore, I have many lessons left to learn.
I love being married to Paul Cooper. I absolutely cannot imagine my life any other way, nor do I try. Paul and I were meant to be husband and wife. God had our days ordained before one of them ever came to be. It has been four wonderful years, and I am excited to know it is just the beginning for the Cooper family!
May 31, 2006
Our anniversary...4 lessons
Tomorrow, June 1st, will be our 4th anniversary. I can still remember all of those feelings from that day. I remember staying up until 4 in the morning the night before talking to my friend, Sadee, and packing for our honeymoon. And because of that late night, I actually slept in on my wedding day! Well, til 9:30, but that was definitely later than I meant to wake up. Much to my surprise, I was not the slightest bit nervous. I knew I was ready for the step Paul and I were about to take. I remember feeling soooo pretty in my wedding dress. It was a feeling I'm sure no other dress will give me in my life. I loved how Evelynn, our little flower girl, looked at me like I was Cinderella. Then again, it was pretty hard to steal the show from Evelynn.
Paul and I agreed to see each other before the wedding, but we went into a room by ourselves for our "unveiling". We teared up as soon as we saw each other. Ironically, we had the same gifts to give each other. My sophomore year of high school, I had started keeping a journal to my future husband. It was just a way for me to keep in perspective that in the midst of teenage dating relationships, I was truly waiting for who God had chosen for me, nameless though he was at the time. Well, when Paul and I were close friends for a year or so before we dated, I told him that I was keeping that journal to give to my husband on our wedding day. He thought that was a great idea, and immediately started writing a journal to his future wife, not knowing at the time that we would be giving those journals to each other! It was a sweet moment for both of us.
I would say in these four years of marriage that have flown by so fast, I have learned many things. For brevity's sake, however, I am going to spout off four lessons I have learned....one for each year of wedded bliss. Awwwwww.
1. Even when we had no clue where we were going in life, which pretty much summed up our first year and a half, we trusted God. We started out in Louisville while Paul was in seminary, then thought we were moving to Dayton, OH (which thank God did not work out), then that we were staying in Louisville, then spent a whole summer in Virginia Beach, then ended up in Muncie, IN. For several months there, we really didn't know what God was doing with us, and things were looking pretty bleak. But we hooked arms and said it would all work out, and it did. We committed to make God our firm foundation in our marriage, and I will never turn back from that.
2. Laugh a lot. I still remember one of our friends asking Paul how married life was when we were only a couple months in, and he said, "Well, we sure laugh a lot." I still carry that with me. It is impossible to live with Paul and not laugh a lot. I mean, a lot. Well, sometimes I try really hard not to laugh, but I always do. When our first year of marriage was just scraping by month to month, and I felt like crying a lot in pity for myself that we had nothing, he would make me laugh and I knew I could hang in there.
3. Believe the best in your spouse. Now, I am still learning this lesson every day. When every sitcom on tv has a wife nagging her husband, and he is always made to look like the stupid one, I believe it is so important to look for the best qualities in your mate. For me, Paul is our leader. He is trustworthy. He makes me laugh. He is so kind. He really, really loves me. He is an overcomer. He is a dreamer, and I like that.
4. Lord, change me. When something just gets under my skin about Paul, and that will definitely happen when married to someone, I have to remind myself that there are things about me that need to be changed. When I want to pray, "God, just change _______ about Paul" I have to ask what God wants to change in me first. I think Paul is much better at ignoring my faults than I am at ignoring his, and therefore, I have many lessons left to learn.
I love being married to Paul Cooper. I absolutely cannot imagine my life any other way, nor do I try. Paul and I were meant to be husband and wife. God had our days ordained before one of them ever came to be. It has been four wonderful years, and I am excited to know it is just the beginning for the Cooper family!
Thursday, January 22, 2009
Archive:Everyone Needs a Charlotte
Friday, May 26, 2006
Everyone needs a Charlotte
I have a friend named Charlotte. She is almost old enough to be my mom. She has two daughters, one in college, one just out of college and married. When Paul and I moved to Muncie, I met her and really liked her. And whenever we talked, it would be long, kind of like stream of consciousness talking, where you just jump from one subject to the next as your mind leads.
Charlotte is a very busy lady. For the two of us to match up our schedules, we usually have to plan ahead. Otherwise, it turns into the usual, "Hey, we should get a Coke sometime." And then "sometime" never comes. So, when I had Abigail and started staying at home with her, Charlotte and I decided to start hanging out at her house one afternoon a week, give or take a little for busy schedules. It is a chance for her to have baby-time, and a chance for me to soak up this oh-so-cool lady.
I guess the best way to describe Charlotte is a deep well. Spiritually, she has such an awesome personal walk with God that I draw wisdom from her whenever I talk to her. She has so much insight to things that I never think of. She helps me think about things differently...deeper. She is so...in tune with God, that it feels like she always has just the words of wisdom I need to hear. But it isn't like we sit around and talk about "spiritual" things all the time. Sometimes we do. Sometimes we talk about being a mom, a wife, the trouble with teenagers today (yes, I'm getting old enough to talk about that), Abigail's diaper rash, the rabbits who ate the tomatoes in my garden, what doctor she recommends, how to grow mint, ten ways to kill a horse (well, that was actually her husbands insight), and how we all need a good chat with a psychiatrist now and then.
And somehow she sees so much of God in all of those things.
She taught me lessons, or re-taught me things I already knew but needed to hear again. She taught the college girls in our bcm ministry to really, truly love the qualities of the man you marry because someday you will have children just like him. She taught me that marriage is hard. She taught me that, like it or not, you are marrying his whole family. So getting to know his sisters, brothers, and parents is always worthwhile. She taught me that it is important to talk to God about everything,that He cares about every little detail, from the pants you buy at the mall to the very next bite of food that enters your mouth. She taught me that if you have someone in your life that you have trouble getting along with, you need to learn how to get along with them. Because if you don’t work out your relationship with that person, and you move somewhere else, God will give you a new person exactly like the one you had trouble with before. He will continue placing that same personality type in your life until you learn to love them. She taught me to take notes on everything. From sermons to business meetings to doctor appointments, someday you will need to recall that vital information and wish you had written it down, and that often the cost of not writing it down is greater than the time it takes to write it in the first place. She taught me that you cannot change people, only God can change them. People you love will make bad choices. She taught me that when your kids are in the center of God’s will, it is the absolute safest place they can be. So when her daughter spent a summer semester in the Holy Lands, and Charlotte was asked if she was scared for her safety, she responded with true bewilderment that she should worry about her daughter when she is in the center of God’s will. She taught me that sometimes God puts us in fearful situations so we will cling to Him. And whenever I would share some story of drama to her, she would ask me the simple question over and over again, “Why do you think that is?” And it would make me pause and think about what I was supposed to be learning at that moment.
And she continues to see God in all these things.
And then she invites Paul over for dinner with us and changes the menu from enchiladas to spaghetti because Paulie doesn't like enchiladas. And we end the night with a good movie. And before you know it, I've been there nine hours. Now, that isn't a typical week, but sometimes you just need a little more Charlotte.
Then, she sent me home with a big vase of perfect peonies from her flower bed. And offers to babysit Abigail (for FREE) so Paul and I can see a movie. And she gives me a hug.
And somehow, I see the kindness of God in all these things.
And when we moved from Muncie to Marshall, Charlotte tried to think of every reason to get us to stay there. She continued to affirm the calling of God in our lives, but told us that they really needed us there. I knew us moving away was hard for our students, but I really knew it was hardest for Charlotte. But I knew that as much as she wanted us to stay, she would never stand in the way of where God was calling us to go. So she uprooted one of her peony plants and some mint to send with me, and waved goodbye.
And I still see the kindness of God in all these things.
Everyone needs a Charlotte.
Everyone needs a Charlotte
I have a friend named Charlotte. She is almost old enough to be my mom. She has two daughters, one in college, one just out of college and married. When Paul and I moved to Muncie, I met her and really liked her. And whenever we talked, it would be long, kind of like stream of consciousness talking, where you just jump from one subject to the next as your mind leads.
Charlotte is a very busy lady. For the two of us to match up our schedules, we usually have to plan ahead. Otherwise, it turns into the usual, "Hey, we should get a Coke sometime." And then "sometime" never comes. So, when I had Abigail and started staying at home with her, Charlotte and I decided to start hanging out at her house one afternoon a week, give or take a little for busy schedules. It is a chance for her to have baby-time, and a chance for me to soak up this oh-so-cool lady.
I guess the best way to describe Charlotte is a deep well. Spiritually, she has such an awesome personal walk with God that I draw wisdom from her whenever I talk to her. She has so much insight to things that I never think of. She helps me think about things differently...deeper. She is so...in tune with God, that it feels like she always has just the words of wisdom I need to hear. But it isn't like we sit around and talk about "spiritual" things all the time. Sometimes we do. Sometimes we talk about being a mom, a wife, the trouble with teenagers today (yes, I'm getting old enough to talk about that), Abigail's diaper rash, the rabbits who ate the tomatoes in my garden, what doctor she recommends, how to grow mint, ten ways to kill a horse (well, that was actually her husbands insight), and how we all need a good chat with a psychiatrist now and then.
And somehow she sees so much of God in all of those things.
She taught me lessons, or re-taught me things I already knew but needed to hear again. She taught the college girls in our bcm ministry to really, truly love the qualities of the man you marry because someday you will have children just like him. She taught me that marriage is hard. She taught me that, like it or not, you are marrying his whole family. So getting to know his sisters, brothers, and parents is always worthwhile. She taught me that it is important to talk to God about everything,that He cares about every little detail, from the pants you buy at the mall to the very next bite of food that enters your mouth. She taught me that if you have someone in your life that you have trouble getting along with, you need to learn how to get along with them. Because if you don’t work out your relationship with that person, and you move somewhere else, God will give you a new person exactly like the one you had trouble with before. He will continue placing that same personality type in your life until you learn to love them. She taught me to take notes on everything. From sermons to business meetings to doctor appointments, someday you will need to recall that vital information and wish you had written it down, and that often the cost of not writing it down is greater than the time it takes to write it in the first place. She taught me that you cannot change people, only God can change them. People you love will make bad choices. She taught me that when your kids are in the center of God’s will, it is the absolute safest place they can be. So when her daughter spent a summer semester in the Holy Lands, and Charlotte was asked if she was scared for her safety, she responded with true bewilderment that she should worry about her daughter when she is in the center of God’s will. She taught me that sometimes God puts us in fearful situations so we will cling to Him. And whenever I would share some story of drama to her, she would ask me the simple question over and over again, “Why do you think that is?” And it would make me pause and think about what I was supposed to be learning at that moment.
And she continues to see God in all these things.
And then she invites Paul over for dinner with us and changes the menu from enchiladas to spaghetti because Paulie doesn't like enchiladas. And we end the night with a good movie. And before you know it, I've been there nine hours. Now, that isn't a typical week, but sometimes you just need a little more Charlotte.
Then, she sent me home with a big vase of perfect peonies from her flower bed. And offers to babysit Abigail (for FREE) so Paul and I can see a movie. And she gives me a hug.
And somehow, I see the kindness of God in all these things.
And when we moved from Muncie to Marshall, Charlotte tried to think of every reason to get us to stay there. She continued to affirm the calling of God in our lives, but told us that they really needed us there. I knew us moving away was hard for our students, but I really knew it was hardest for Charlotte. But I knew that as much as she wanted us to stay, she would never stand in the way of where God was calling us to go. So she uprooted one of her peony plants and some mint to send with me, and waved goodbye.
And I still see the kindness of God in all these things.
Everyone needs a Charlotte.
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