Category: Marriage

  • Blog. graduates. 6.09 This feels like a season of milestones, doesn't it? One school year ends, and kids move up a grade. Young people put on caps and gowns and march solemnly, stepping in time to (what else?) "Pomp & Circumstance."

    Life is full of milestones, although often we don't recognize them at the time.

    Last night we did. My husband and I proudly watched one of our grandsons graduate from high school. On a beautiful June evening we sat in a stadium packed with joyful parents and exuberant family members and friends. Judging from the noise levels, excitement reigned. The general attitude seemed to be, "We/They made it!"

    Twelve years of education and hard work lie behind these high school graduates. Twelve years of Mom and Dad doing what moms and dads do, keeping an eye on things, loving their child, holding it all together.

    Watching that crowd of bright, talented young people brought a lump to my throat. The future stretches before them, filled with promise and opportunity they can't foresee.

    Graduations, however, always feel a touch bittersweet. As one of last night's speakers put it, "Now our years together come to an end."

    Yet the flip side of this "ending" also is a beginning. 

    What we call an ending often ushers in the beginning of something not yet seen and more wonderful than we can imagine.

    I'm newly aware of that right now. I recently spent time with an old friend who's in Hospice care. Following surgery and treatment for a malignant brain tumor, she's unable to speak more than two or three words. Her eyes and her typically beautiful smile, however, speak volumes, so she still communicates. 

    When I think of her and her husband, who has adored her since she was a teenager, I ache with sadness for them. Not so long ago their future stretched ahead of them and they dreamed wonderful dreams together. Now they can only look into each other's eyes and hold each other's hands every chance they get, hungry to hang on, yearning to freeze time and capture the moment.

    Yet peace shines from their eyes and radiates from their body language. 

    Before them lies an ending, you say. Not really, not for these two. They both believe in Jesus and have built their marriage and raised their children in Him. So they know they'll be together again. They believe one's last breath on earth is one's first breath in Heaven.

    One day my friend will "graduate" from earth. Before her will stretch a beautiful world the rest of us can't see…yet.

    We'll call it an "ending," but for her, it will be just the beginning. She'll be "movin' on up!" for real.

    And we will rejoice through our tears, just as we did at that graduation last night.

    Blessings,

    Lenore

    Your comments welcomed!

    Of endings…and beginnings

  • Maybe that sounds like a silly analogy, but on the other hand…Blog. rocks. tumbled polished

    Ever met a bride who didn't expect to live happily ever after? Me neither.

    Ever met a wife–or husband, for that matter–whose life together consists of one blissful day after another? Me neither.

    Or a new mom or dad who didn't expect that beautiful baby would smile and coo and love them every single day? Of course not.

    Marriage and parenting change us. Like it or not, we're forced to stretch and grow. When we bring home a newborn, we quickly discover life never will go back to "normal." Because that totally helpless infant needs us, we set aside our own needs and care for our child. That becomes our new routine. 

    Call it the rock polisher of love and parenting.

    Most married couples I've known describe themselves as complete opposites. Certainly that fits my husband and me. Yet here we are after many years, still married –and happy. Sure, we've had our ups and downs, but we hung in there through the downs and celebrated the ups.

    By now we actually appreciate each other's personality traits, the same qualities that once frustrated us. We've discovered we're better and more effective together than  either would be on our own. Now we know that we balance each other. (God, of course, knew all this from the beginning.)

    We've learned. We've grown. Credit the daily rock polisher of love and marriage.

    If you've ever been around a rock polisher, you know it makes a frightful racket.  Picture a rotating drum full of rocks hitting and crashing against each other and banging the sides. The continual noise goes on and on.  

    It takes as long as it takes and there's no other way. In the beginning all those rocks look rough and uninteresting. At the end they come out smooth and polished. Now we can see their depth and remarkable colors. Some are revealed to be semi-precious. A few even turn out to be precious gems. 

    I can't think of a better analogy for marriage, can you?

    So next time you hear some "crashing and banging" around your house, don't despair.  Consider it part of love's smoothing and polishing process. As we live together in marriage, in a family, we smooth off each other's rough edges. (If you have no noise and conflict, don't worry. Love still accomplishes its purpose: change.)

    By the way, it helps to remember what every rockhound knows. What looks like a dull, craggy rock in the beginning may, once it has tumbled awhile, turn out to be a gem of priceless worth. 

    Blessings,

    Lenore

    Question for you: Have you found this to be true in your life?   (Just go to the  "Comments" box at the end and follow directions.)

    Are you caught in the rock polisher of Love?

  •     If the movie, "Fireproof," is still playing in a theater near you, don't miss it–and don't delay, because it probably won't last long.! My husband and I saw it recently, and it's a wonderful movie, set in contemporary times. We thought it to be high-quality, with realistic dialog, suspense, humor and a message.

        Kirk Cameron (you remember him from the sitcom "Growing Pains") plays the male leFireproofonesheetad, a local Fire Department captain. So you get some nice insights into life at a firehouse, too.

       Although the plot centers around a marriage, the wider story makes a lot of points about sustaining any friendship or family relationship. Best of all, this isn't a typical Hollywood production. Rather, it was written and produced by a church–one church, Sherwood Baptist, in Albany, GA. Many of the actors were volunteers from the congregation or the community. Screen credits listed food donations from individuals and restaurants, even babysitters. 

        So if you want a lift, search out "Fireproof," either in a theater or later, on DVD. You'll find it more than just a time-filler. I guarantee it's not one of those movies that sends you out of the theater muttering, "So what was that all about, anyway?"

        By the way, yes, there's some faith talk, but what there is naturally flows out of the story line and doesn't feel preachy. But there's a lot about life and living and loving, about turning troubled lives around. And we, at least, found it engrossing and left the theater smiling.

        Bet you will, too.

        Here's to learning while we live!

        Lenore

        Your comments welcomed!

    Here’s a movie that’s worth your time–and then some

  •     I found out today that my dear friend's husband died last night, after a long battle with that dreaded enemy, cancer. My heart aches for her. These two forged the kind of marriage everyone wants, where love shone from their eyes and sparkled their personalities. A love that infused every day of their forty-four years together with certainty and strength, and brimmed over into the lives of their children and grandchildren, as well as all who know them.

        We've been friends for years, even though separated by hundreds of miles. Our get-togethers have been infrequent, but we never need to get reacquainted. We pick up as if we just saw each other last week. Now these last months I've been reading the blog of their "journey" since his diagnosis. Her open, honest accounts have moved my heart and enriched my life, broadened my understanding.

        These two shared a bedrock, joyful, living faith in Jesus, too. All along this has glued them together and empowered their days, but especially these last months. They've treasured each moment together and simply lived with gusto, making memories at every opportunity. They've prayed for strength and peace, of course. But they've also prayed that somehow they could be a blessing to the people around them. That included their family and friends who came from far and near, caring Hospice nurses, and former co-workers, friends and fellow Christians who've been bringing them meals for months. In more recent times, a faithful group of male friends have rotated staying overnight, keeping watch, so my friend and their family could sleep without need for watchfulness.  

        This good, loving man died at home, surrounded by his dear ones, as he wished and they wished. As they had prayed, he had a peaceful going home to Jesus. Their young grandchildren had been told that their adored grandfather soon would be leaving earth. A few nights ago one of their beautiful preschooler granddaughters prayed that her "Papa" soon would have fun playing with Jesus and that her "Nana" wouldn't be too sad without him.

        So this day is sad for me, but it's also glad. I think how differently this would have played out if this family had only their own strength to draw on through this heart-wrenching journey. And how much more devastating it would be for them to think of this much-loved man's life as simply  … "over."

        Christians cherish the sure knowledge that death is not the end, but simply one's last breath on earth. You'll find that truth many times in the Bible, especially in the New Testament. I don't know who coined the term "the Gospel in a nutshell," but here it is:  

    God so loved the world that He gave His one and only Son, that whoever believes in Him shall not perish but have eternal life.                                                            –John 3:16

        Every death reminds us that life is fragile–and precious. Each morning we open our eyes provides ample reason to rejoice! Let's hold our loved ones close and speak the words in our hearts … while we can.

        Let's make every day count!

        Lenore

        Your comments truly are welcomed!

    Remembering that Life is precious

  •     I keep forgetting it makes no sense to ask a question when I know–and may not like–the answer. Like when I put on an outfit I'm not sure about, then ask my husband, "What do you think? Does this work?"

       What's the poor guy supposed to say? He knows by experience if he answers, "Yes," I probably won't believe him, because I wouldn't ask unless I had doubts. If he says, "No," I may respond,  "What's wrong with it?"

       Ever been there? The funniest tale I heard was of the wife who got all gussied up, then asked her husband, "How do I look?"

       He took in all her grandeur and said, lovingly, "Honey, you look as good as you've ever looked."

       She stared at him a second or two, put her hands on her hips and asked, "So what do you mean by that?"

        Every husband would be as baffled as that one. Every wife would understand perfectly.

        Bob and I have been married a lotta years by now. You might imagine that guarantees we never misunderstand each other. I hate to blast away that lovely illusion, but it ain't a-gonna happen.

       In any marriage.

       Ever.

       How could it, since marriage joins one imperfect man and one imperfect woman? That state of being will never change, whether you've been married five months or seventy-five years.

       One thing we've learned over the years: It helps to keep that in mind, especially about ourselves. It also helps to laugh, but even more to decide to laugh … and to overlook the small annoyances and frustrations that inevitably come up between any two people. The apostle Paul puts it this way: 

    "Bear with each other and forgive whatever grievances you may have against one another. Forgive as the Lord forgave you."                                  –Colossians 3:13

      That principle reminds us who we are and how we want to live together. Sometimes we slip up, like any two marriage partners, but when we remember it, we're both happier. Just wanting to builds strength into our marriage relationship, and into each of us as individuals. Take it from Bob and me, it helps put joy into the journey.

      Happy traveling!

      Lenore

      Your comments?

     

       

       

    Lessons learned along the way

  •     These past weeks I've been brain-weary, trying to put together this blog.It's been one trial-and-error after another, which seems to be my style. Of course, I made it more complicated by choosing to personalize the look of it rather than just use one of the excellent pre-designed banner templates. One of my husband's photos would be just the thing, I thought, which turned out (for this rookie) to take awhile. But finally, finally, here we are.

          The photo you see across the top gives you a sense of what we see from our back deck. We delight in watching this ever-changing panorama of sky, as well as looking over a bit of open space. My favorite trees, the huge, gnarled old oaks that drag the ground, stand sentinal, as they have for a century or more. Picture a walking trail winding through this. Occasionally small flocks of wild turkeys gobble their way across, sometimes invading backyards and strutting down the sidewalks of our little community. In the cool of the morning and at dusk our resident trio of deer may stroll the open space, enjoying nibbles of the now-dry grass. Morning to night we hear birdsong, everything from Mockingbirds to Mourning Doves.

          As we look beyond our "wildlife preserve" we see hundreds of roofs and treetops. The busy street running through guarantees background traffic noise, but we ignore that and look to the grassy hills beyond, where more ancient oaks punctuate the terrain. Off in the distance–on a clear day–we glimpse the Sutter Buttes, known as the world's smallest mountain range. If you've been to northern California, you know the look of our area.

         Each day ends with a sunset. Some sunsets, like the one you see at the top of this page, make us gasp with awe. We stand transfixed and silently watch the incredible kaleidescope shimmering before us, often forgetting to grab the camera. Always, one verse comes to mind, the only one that fits: <blockquote

    "Be still and know that I am God."   (Psalm 46:10)

        Do we know we're blessed to live here, and are we thankful? Yes. But do we always stop to drink it in? Sadly, no.

        I think that's how most of us are with life, too. We're often as blind to the wonder of our lives as to the magnificence of another sunset … or another dawn.

       Each sunrise officially signals the new day. Maybe yesterday we messed up royally, but today the slate is clean and we get a fresh, new beginning. Once more we can choose how we'll live the unsullied twenty-four hours before us.

        Some days our hearts brim with joy, while others leave us weeping. Most days we label, "just routine." Truth is, no day is routine. Like every sunrise and every sunset, each day is one-of-a-kind, with no instant replays to be had. 

        That's true with the people in our lives, too. We so easily take them for granted, especially the ones we know we can count on. We forget to say, "thank you," and sometimes we forget that love takes care and feeding, like a delicate plant that can wither and die.

        As for mothering–or any kind of working with kids, well, you know how it goes. We get caught up in all the "doing" and forget to just pause and marvel at the mystery unfolding before us. Each child is a unique creation, an individual, like no other human being on earth. Yet somehow God trusts us with this child's care and shaping and guiding, day after challenging–and rewarding–day. We're allowed to be on the scene for the miracle.

       Whatever age we are, it's worth remembering that tomorrow may never arrive. That sets the true value on today: precious. Irreplaceable. A time to savor and cherish. Something to live, not just get through.

        For me, at least, mastering this skill looks to be the work of a lifetime. But I am learning, and I'm praying for eyes to see the beauty of each day and each person in my life. I don't want to miss any part of it.

        So here's to 20/20 vision of the heart!

        Lenore Buth

    Looking out on the world