Three Things Thursday (Bonus Edition)
Thanks to Sherry as I steal her idea for today. Also for Funkiller's pasta story, which inspired me too.
1) S and I had a wonderful talk last night; nothing momentous, just sharing feelings and thoughts from the day even though it was late (we had EFM) and we should have fallen asleep; the kind of talk we don't get often enough. She told me a day or two before that her definition of a healthy relationship was one that is restorative. Ours has always been that at one level or another, and it is becoming more intimate with every season that passes. We're growing up, funny to say, slowly getting close despite the fear and anger, learning to identify and gradually change learned unhealthy patterns...restoring each other. Her work with children (she's interning as part of her hours to be a therapist) is changing our life at home. Thanks be to God, who never ever abandons his children in life or death. Selah.
2) I've decided I don't have to worry about Ehrman's thesis below now; it lies outside the mainstream of gospel criticism from both sides of the debate, and I'm aware of only the scantest manuscript proof. Studying the Exodus from a revisionist perspective in EFM is challenging enough.
3) Today I'm determined to get a hair cut, lift weights at home, work on my online classes, clean a little, see my doctor, go to vestry tonight. I've run across women's blogs where the blog functions as relief from the isolation of housewife living. I relate to those feelings my days home alone. The solution is positive action.
Bonus Story:
When I met my wife in 96 she didn't like Christmas. I, on the other hand, was a It's A Wonderful Life junkie who didn't have many great Christmas memories but was darned committed to making some. That first year I didn't have much money, but back then that didn't stop me from spending all the teeny bit I had. We were dating; I had just met Mikey who was the most darling four year old on the planet (see the novel Princess Bride for a discussion of such superlatives). Mikey had bunk beds in his room and Christmas Eve I slept on the bottom bunk to make the next morning more special for him. He woke me up Christmas morning sticking his little head over the top bunk and telling me to get up so we could open presents.
He was very Toy Story at the time, so I got him a Woody doll. But what to get for Stephanie our first Christmas as a couple? We hadn't been dating very long, si months maybe, but I wanted to get her things that would make her feel cared for. A single mom, working as hard as she did, deserved something nice. I had already discovered the wonder of down comforters, shearling slipper boots, and flannel. These luxuries don't need to cost much if one knows where to shop, and then, oh yes baby, I knew where to shop. I also bought her a good kitchen knife because the way she had managed to get close to me despite all my barriers and terrors that summer was cooking. She knew how to cook, and I loved what she made so much she learned more. I was lost from the first meal. Or found. But she made everything using this very old, dull, low-quality knife, so I trotted to the mall and got her a decent chef's knife. Still wooden handled, but much better steel. We still have it, and we use it all the time. It's been so long I had forgotten its sentimental history.
The fur boots she had seen on someone else and wanted, so those weren't totally my idea. But the down comforter...there's nothing quite like these things. We both lived in Long Beach at the time and I had one at my house, a thin one just right for So. Cal. weather (the comforter we have in the mountains now is very, very thick). I found her a similar model. Since Mikey was dying to know what I got his mom I showed him all three of her presents. At the time Mikey thought I came over to play with him, he called me 'his best, big friend.' Once I remember him telling his dad about me on the phone. His father hadn't met me and didn't know I was around yet, but I could hear Mikey talking about me and then saying 'he's bigger than my mom,' explaining, I'm sure, that I was his best friend but not smaller than his mom, no, bigger.
As I said, Mikey was only four and I cautioned him,'you can't tell mom about any of the things I got her; these are surprises.' He understood, solemnly, but he would get so excited then. We'd play hide and seek and before I even got into the room he was in he'd be squealing so loud I knew where he was, or we'd try to hide behind a bush in the Nature Center to jump out at his mom who was walking behind us and he'd giggle to much she knew when she was twenty feet away. Christmas morning was no exception that year. I wrapped the comforter in wrapping paper and when Steph picked it up, all bulky and soft, she wondered aloud what it was. Mikey, trying so hard not to give it away, shouted, 'It's not a big blanket!' Ah, reverse psychology. I laughed so hard I wanted to pee.
I have pictures from that first Chrismas, prints actually. I wish I knew how to get them up here. Since I have no electronic versions I have no idea. But little Mikey, now a gruff but sweet 13, was a wonder at four. A true wonder. He still is, just distant from us in his teenaged way. That family, that girl and her cooking and her loyalty and the wonder of Mikey pulled me out of more than two years of single life in the wake of my divorce and its rebound relationship. I always managed to find women who either couldn't or didn't love me, who left me. With Steph and Mikey, I found home. True Christmas, even if I share him with another father and Steph and I never had any biological children together.
It is possible to be in Canaan and believe one is in Egypt still. I've done a lot of that over the last almost ten years in my own head, even when I knew how much the love of my family was changing me. For marriage is harder than dating; Mikey is growing up and we have to find ourselves as a couple without that sweet little soul running around; we struggle in places yet. But, in some ways against the odds, we're doing it. We fight the patterns inherited from our parents. In my view, God has brought together two of his wounded to let them both heal if they choose life. May this be so. May Steph and I have the years together, and the faith, to make the journey long and sweet.
1) S and I had a wonderful talk last night; nothing momentous, just sharing feelings and thoughts from the day even though it was late (we had EFM) and we should have fallen asleep; the kind of talk we don't get often enough. She told me a day or two before that her definition of a healthy relationship was one that is restorative. Ours has always been that at one level or another, and it is becoming more intimate with every season that passes. We're growing up, funny to say, slowly getting close despite the fear and anger, learning to identify and gradually change learned unhealthy patterns...restoring each other. Her work with children (she's interning as part of her hours to be a therapist) is changing our life at home. Thanks be to God, who never ever abandons his children in life or death. Selah.
2) I've decided I don't have to worry about Ehrman's thesis below now; it lies outside the mainstream of gospel criticism from both sides of the debate, and I'm aware of only the scantest manuscript proof. Studying the Exodus from a revisionist perspective in EFM is challenging enough.
3) Today I'm determined to get a hair cut, lift weights at home, work on my online classes, clean a little, see my doctor, go to vestry tonight. I've run across women's blogs where the blog functions as relief from the isolation of housewife living. I relate to those feelings my days home alone. The solution is positive action.
Bonus Story:
When I met my wife in 96 she didn't like Christmas. I, on the other hand, was a It's A Wonderful Life junkie who didn't have many great Christmas memories but was darned committed to making some. That first year I didn't have much money, but back then that didn't stop me from spending all the teeny bit I had. We were dating; I had just met Mikey who was the most darling four year old on the planet (see the novel Princess Bride for a discussion of such superlatives). Mikey had bunk beds in his room and Christmas Eve I slept on the bottom bunk to make the next morning more special for him. He woke me up Christmas morning sticking his little head over the top bunk and telling me to get up so we could open presents.
He was very Toy Story at the time, so I got him a Woody doll. But what to get for Stephanie our first Christmas as a couple? We hadn't been dating very long, si months maybe, but I wanted to get her things that would make her feel cared for. A single mom, working as hard as she did, deserved something nice. I had already discovered the wonder of down comforters, shearling slipper boots, and flannel. These luxuries don't need to cost much if one knows where to shop, and then, oh yes baby, I knew where to shop. I also bought her a good kitchen knife because the way she had managed to get close to me despite all my barriers and terrors that summer was cooking. She knew how to cook, and I loved what she made so much she learned more. I was lost from the first meal. Or found. But she made everything using this very old, dull, low-quality knife, so I trotted to the mall and got her a decent chef's knife. Still wooden handled, but much better steel. We still have it, and we use it all the time. It's been so long I had forgotten its sentimental history.
The fur boots she had seen on someone else and wanted, so those weren't totally my idea. But the down comforter...there's nothing quite like these things. We both lived in Long Beach at the time and I had one at my house, a thin one just right for So. Cal. weather (the comforter we have in the mountains now is very, very thick). I found her a similar model. Since Mikey was dying to know what I got his mom I showed him all three of her presents. At the time Mikey thought I came over to play with him, he called me 'his best, big friend.' Once I remember him telling his dad about me on the phone. His father hadn't met me and didn't know I was around yet, but I could hear Mikey talking about me and then saying 'he's bigger than my mom,' explaining, I'm sure, that I was his best friend but not smaller than his mom, no, bigger.
As I said, Mikey was only four and I cautioned him,'you can't tell mom about any of the things I got her; these are surprises.' He understood, solemnly, but he would get so excited then. We'd play hide and seek and before I even got into the room he was in he'd be squealing so loud I knew where he was, or we'd try to hide behind a bush in the Nature Center to jump out at his mom who was walking behind us and he'd giggle to much she knew when she was twenty feet away. Christmas morning was no exception that year. I wrapped the comforter in wrapping paper and when Steph picked it up, all bulky and soft, she wondered aloud what it was. Mikey, trying so hard not to give it away, shouted, 'It's not a big blanket!' Ah, reverse psychology. I laughed so hard I wanted to pee.
I have pictures from that first Chrismas, prints actually. I wish I knew how to get them up here. Since I have no electronic versions I have no idea. But little Mikey, now a gruff but sweet 13, was a wonder at four. A true wonder. He still is, just distant from us in his teenaged way. That family, that girl and her cooking and her loyalty and the wonder of Mikey pulled me out of more than two years of single life in the wake of my divorce and its rebound relationship. I always managed to find women who either couldn't or didn't love me, who left me. With Steph and Mikey, I found home. True Christmas, even if I share him with another father and Steph and I never had any biological children together.
It is possible to be in Canaan and believe one is in Egypt still. I've done a lot of that over the last almost ten years in my own head, even when I knew how much the love of my family was changing me. For marriage is harder than dating; Mikey is growing up and we have to find ourselves as a couple without that sweet little soul running around; we struggle in places yet. But, in some ways against the odds, we're doing it. We fight the patterns inherited from our parents. In my view, God has brought together two of his wounded to let them both heal if they choose life. May this be so. May Steph and I have the years together, and the faith, to make the journey long and sweet.
Comments
My prayers for a lifetime of faith, happiness and strength for you and your wife. Peace.