I like to have meaningful and symbolic things around me. Like anyone else, I love photos of loved ones, candid and formal, thoughtful gifts from friends, and words on the walls that remind me of what’s really important.

The older I get and the more sieve-like my memory becomes, the more I need gentle nudges about what to set my mind and heart on. Left to its default mode, my mind often spins and toils about useless things. I will never get caught up with this paperwork. I wonder if I’ll have to have a knee replaced before I’m sixty? I don’t think I fit in with that group. And so on.

I spend a lot of time in my office, since our line of work requires hours of paperwork each week. I have tried to make my office a pleasant, personal space, and I’m very grateful for how cheery and inviting it is. The walls are painted a pale, turquoisey blue, and the window trim and the wooden ceiling are a creamy white. My desk is white and so is the storage armoire. There are huge windows that let in the filtered sunlight, and I can look out at a good-sized yard with a flower garden planted around the trunk of an old maple tree. The peonies in the garden are in bloom now. Several times a day I see chipmunks, rabbits, squirrels, deer, and all manner of birds very close by.

There are many passages in the Bible that encourage us to put words of truth and importance in places where they will be frequently noticed, remembered and meditated on. Recently I put some words up on my office walls. I chose seven words important to me, and sometimes when I’m taking a break from typing I just look up and see them there, speaking reminders to my heart.

These photos were taken in varying shades of very bright or diffused sunlight, with flash and without, so the walls seem like they’re different colors, but they aren’t. 🙂

Peace

Nothing means more to me these days than the peace that passes all understanding. I am hoping to learn more about the peace that Christ makes available to me if I will cast all my cares upon Him instead of toiling and spinning about them in my thoughts.

Joy

Sometimes joy is elusive if I’m not meditating on the things that are pure, lovely admirable, true, excellent or praiseworthy. I look up from my paperwork Alps and am reminded that Jesus has come to bring me joy.

Remember

I will remember the deeds of the LORD ; yes, I will remember your miracles of long ago. Psalm 77:11.  Sometimes I just need to be still and remember what God has already done for me. Then I am reminded of how faithful He has been, and can rest in how faithful He will be.

Thankful

Another one of my default modes is complaining. Even if I don’t always voice my complaints, I tend to look at the glass half empty instead of focusing on the riches of my life. It is not a blessing to a parent or grandparent when a child is whiny or ungrateful. It can’t be a blessing to God when I’m not living gratefully. I need the lens of thankfulness so I can look at my life in truth.

Love

I want to cooperate with God so that I become a more gentle and loving person. Being in the presence of people who truly, unselfishly love is life-changing and unforgettable.

Family

What can I say about this word? Just looking at the word family makes the tears fall. When I was fourteen years old I almost died, and surely would have if God had not intervened. But He saved me from an early death and gave me many more years of life, and a family. I think of the husband, daughters, sons-in-law and grandchildren He has given me, and I feel overwhelmed. Thank you for my family, Lord.

Jesus

When Mrs. Ruby Greener first taught me about the love of Jesus, I was three years old and in Sunday School at the First Baptist Church of Covina, CA. I believed every word I was taught about His love and power, and still do. For me, there would be no peace, joy, thankfulness, remembrance, family or love…without Jesus.

Love the LORD your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength. These commandments that I give you today are to be upon your hearts. Impress them on your children. Talk about them when you sit at home and when you walk along the road, when you lie down and when you get up. Tie them as symbols on your hands and bind them on your foreheads. Write them on the door frames of your houses and on your gates. Deuteronomy 6:5-9

Let love and faithfulness never leave you; bind them around your neck, write them on the tablet of your heart. Proverbs 3:3.

Peace, Joy, Remember, Thankful, Love, Family, Jesus.

If you were to bind some words around your neck, write them on the door frames of your house and your gates, what would your words be?

Boasting is the voice of pride in the heart of the strong. Self-pity is the voice of pride in the heart of the weak.

John Piper

Speaking loudly to myself here,

Our household is busy, noisy and fun these days, full of daughters and sons-in-law and little children. And incorrigible, nervous Schnauzers. Most of the little kids are at the beach right now, digging in the sand and probably not going in the water, as Lake Superior is bound to be chilly still.  I have five minutes to add a new post, and this is what came to mind – things I would like to say thanks for.

1.  Healthy grandchildren running wild and giggling in a big house.

2.  The constant birdsong outside my office window.

3.  Cool summer temps and low humidity – Michael and I say “Good sleepin’ weather!”

4.  Music that brings tears.

5.  Wonderful, generous daughters.

6.  Kind and faithful husband.

7.  Abundance – why others in this world don’t have it, I don’t understand. For now I’m blessed with it – I don’t understand that either, but am saying thank you.

8.  Loyal, lifelong friends.

9.  Piles of books – good reading memories and more to anticipate.

10. Jesus – His grace and truth. Nothing would be the same without Him.

What are the things you say thanks for today?

Worship is the strategy by which we interrupt our preoccupation with ourselves and attend to the presence of God. Worship is the time and place that we assign for deliberate attentiveness to God – not because He’s confined to time and place but because our self-importance is so insidiously relentless that if we don’t deliberately interrupt ourselves regularly, we have no chance of attending to Him at all, at other times and in other places.

Eugene Peterson

In our last house, I indulged my long-time love of all things toile (pronounced twall) and put up black and white toile wallpaper in the master bedroom. I then hung black and white toile valances over the windows, and people began to give me black and white toile gifts that I displayed all over the room. It was truly toile overload, and it suited me just fine. I liked it so much (and Michael did too) that when we moved into our new house, I again hung black and white toile wallpaper in our bedroom, and because of peoples’ thoughtful gifts, kept adding to the toile theme.

Back at the old house, I once remarked to my son-in-law Jeremy that there should be a toile wallpaper with Miniature German Schnauzers on it. Because along with the various people always drawn on toile who sit on swings, pull wagons, draw water from wells, and fish off of quaint stone bridges, toile patterns usually feature goats, chickens, frolicking dogs, and even donkeys. Jeremy is a phenomenal artist and I told him he should draw a pen and ink likeness of our Schnauzer Edith on our toile wallpaper.

A few weeks later I was getting ready for bed and my eye caught something on our toile wallpaper that I hadn’t seen before – Edith, our Miniature German Schnauzer! Jeremy had drawn her sitting at the knee of one of the languidly reclining women figures on the wallpaper, begging for a pat on the head from said woman.

I was delighted! What an amazing talent Jeremy has. I called him up and thanked him for the pen and ink drawing of Edith, and he asked, “Did you find the other ones?”

“Other ones?” No, I hadn’t noticed other drawings, but of course Michael and I began to scan every square foot of our bedroom wallpaper to see what else Jeremy had drawn there.

It took several minutes, but on a different wall to the left of the window, we found this drawing of Edith, having some kind of canine interaction with one of the dogs already on our wallpaper. Edith has a strange ear that doesn’t flop down like the other one does – it stands up like an Orca fin all the time and Jeremy even captured that little anomaly of hers.

Of course by this time we were on a Schnauzer-hunt, and it took a long while to find the third drawing Jeremy had done – this one was up high near the ceiling. You can see that long-suffering Edith is sitting by a ladder and a chicken is pecking at her ear. It’s the ear that won’t fold down as it should, and we think this chicken knew it was a deformity and was trying to correct it for Edith.(You know how chickens are – they have a tendency to henpeck.) As is clearly evident in the drawing, Edith is not particularly pleased by this chicken’s assistance.

Over the years I would always smile when I looked at these amazing drawings Jeremy did. No one would have ever known they were there, since they get lost in the busyness of the toile. When I pointed them out to people they were always astounded at Jeremy’s artistic gift, and they loved the whimsy of us having our own Edith the Schnauzer added to our wallpaper.

Well, now we don’t live in that house anymore and of course we had to leave the pen and ink Ediths behind. Last week we closed on the sale and met the new homeowners for the first time. They were both friendly and so warm and complimentary, and we were happy to see that they seem to love the house as much as we do.

I’ve been wondering though. How long will it take them to notice that there are three little drawings of one beloved little dog that have been added to their bedroom wallpaper?

I hope I can talk Jeremy into putting some new Ediths up on our new black and white toile wallpaper. And we have a second Schnauzer now – her name is Mildred and we usually call her Millie. Hopefully she’ll make an appearance in pen and ink someday as well.

Along with all the photographs we have of our children and grandchildren, we also believe in immortalizing our dogs.

Part of a hymn by John Newton that I’ve written on the inside cover of my Bible:

“Thou art coming to a King

Large petitions with thee bring

For His grace and power are such

None can ever ask too much…”

Asking for the sun, moon and stars,

Last weekend Michael and I went away to celebrate our 28th anniversary. We drove to Bayfield, Wisconsin, on the shores of Lake Superior. We also visited Madeline Island, which is part of the Apostle Islands Chain. We went away to rest, to stroll, to nap, to refresh and to reflect. I might add that my intention in this little retreat was to not cook, not clean, not let the dogs in and out seventeen times during the day, and to not do paperwork. Measured by that criteria, I would say our anniversary weekend was a success – we had a very fun and restful time.

We stayed at a great place right outside of Bayfield, called Woodside Cottages. We liked the idea of not staying in a hotel or an inn, and not sharing a hallway or walls with anyone else. We wanted quiet, and the Woodside Cottages delivered.

Our cottage was #4, and it was situated right on the edge of the woods. The  photo of the inside isn’t very large but you might be able to see that we had a wood stove, a fridge and microwave, a tub, table and chairs, etc. The weather was warm and breezy, so the sound of the leaves rustling and the many varieties of birds singing was like nature’s sleeping pill. We could feel the tension just fade as we unpacked our bag and decided to nap before going into town to explore.

My husband of 28 years, happy to rest after driving for a couple of hours.

Later in the afternoon we drove into Bayfield and shopped. Bayfield boasts only a couple hundred residents and survives mostly by tourism. There are a lot of cute gift shops, antique stores, restaurants, fishing boat businesses and places to lodge and dine. The first weekend of every October, tens of thousands of people from all over the upper Midwest converge on Bayfield for their famous Apple Festival, and there are vendors, parades, contests, and all things apple to eat. Apple orchards abound in and around Bayfield, and the fall colors are so brilliant.

On Friday evening we ate dinner at Maggie’s, which is known for their great food and over-the-top pink flamingo theme. Michael had pan-fried Lake Superior Whitefish and I had the Blackened Chicken and Blue Cheese salad. People with flamingophobia should not visit Maggie’s, as every square foot of the walls and ceilings are covered with flamingo posters, stuffed pink flamingoes, plastic flamingoes, and lighted flamingoes.

After the most restful sleep from not getting up at 5:00 a.m., we took our time and didn’t go into town for breakfast until 9:00 a.m. This is unheard of in our lives. 9:00 a.m. is almost lunchtime at our house – we’ve been up for hours by then. This is a morning view of Bayfield, taken from one of the main streets (Manypenny Avenue) looking toward Lake Superior. You can see Madeline Island in the distance, 2.6 miles from Bayfield.

Michael was looking forward to going to Bayfield for two reasons: to rest and to eat at Greunke’s. Greunke’s is a really old inn that’s sort of a landmark in Bayfield, known for hearty, home-cooked food. Any time we’ve ever visited Bayfield overnight, Michael has talked about eating breakfast at Greunke’s.

I’m not a very good photographer, but when we ate breakfast at Greunke’s I had to get a shot of my surprisingly crunchy ham and cheese omelet. I stared at it for a while before trying it, and I almost sent it back without taking a bite, because it was so….well, crispy looking. I cook my omelets to be soft and fluffy and not browned at all. I tapped on the outside of this omelet with my fork and it made a loud sound, like someone knocking on cardboard. I thought quietly for a minute and decided I didn’t want to begin our Saturday discontented and persnickety, so I took a bite. The outside of the omelet was as crispy as a potato chip.  Not good, I thought. But guess what? The more bites I took, the more okay it got. I actually enjoyed my almost-burned and strangely brittle ham and cheese omelet from Gruenke’s, and somehow starting out the day in a gratitude mode made me feel really happy.

Michael had his never-varying favorite breakfast: two fried eggs over-easy, two pieces of wheat toast with peanut butter, American potatoes, and two sausage links. I have never known anyone more devoted to sausage than my husband. He knows this is not the greatest boon to his arterial health so he doesn’t eat sausage daily like he used to before we got married, but sausage is one of those things in life that makes Michael very happy. As you can clearly see by this photo.

After breakfast and a little strolling around downtown Bayfield, we lined our van up with several other cars waiting to take the ferry to Madeline Island. There are four ferries in Bayfield and the biggest one holds 20 vehicles. The one we took on Saturday was called The Island Queen and held about 12, I think. It takes about 20 minutes to reach the island.

And we sat in the van as we crossed, backwards. The temperature was already 80 degrees and there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. We were looking forward to doing a lot of nothing much, and visiting beautiful Big Bay Beach on Madeline Island.

Here’s part of the sandy shore at Big Bay Beach on Madeline Island. The water temp was in the forties, so it was still too cold for swimming. Later in the summer it will warm up, and swimmers can go hundreds of yards out in the very shallow water before they reach a huge drop-off and dangerously cold water. The sand was scorching hot.

Lake Superior is legendary for its “gales of November” and  for never giving up its dead. (If you don’t believe me listen to “The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald” by Gordon Lightfoot.) I’ve seen the Lake’s towering storm-tossed waves, but on this June morning the waves were about two inches high.

After Michael and I enjoyed the beach until I was on the verge of sunburn, we drove all around Madeline Island, looking at houses that were for sale, and we dreamed about having a summer home there. A three bedroom house can be had for less than $200,000. Wildflowers grew on the sides of the roads everywhere – here are some lupine, and we saw Indian paintbrush and buttercups in abundance.

Even in the afternoon we were still so full from our Greunke’s breakfast that we opted to each have an apple and a bottle of water for lunch. We knew we had a special dinner lined up for Saturday night, so we thought two meals would be plenty for one day. After more strolling and more not paying attention to the clock, we headed back to the ferry dock to wait for the next ride back across the water to Bayfield. While we sat in the shade by the big Lake, we watched in delight as a mama duck led her little ones around and showed them what to eat. The waves were bigger here and the ducks were bobbing up and down like little corks.

See how tired and worn out relaxed and refreshed we look after a day on the Island?

Back in Bayfield, we decided to do another thing dear to my husband’s heart – antiqueing. Michael has always loved to shop, and I never really enjoy it very much. But that saying “I have places to go and people to meet!” did not apply on this day, so I magnanimously suggested that we check out the antique store across the street from Greunke’s. Michael was excited. Excuse the pun that is this picture. It was absolutely intended. 🙂

We went back to our little cottage after a low-key and wonderful day, to (what else?) nap and to not cook and not clean, and to talk about how much we looked forward to our anniversary dinner at The Old Rittenhouse Inn.

There is no way to describe how amazing the food is at The Rittenhouse. The old Victorian mansion is beautiful inside with fireplaces in every room. A five-course dinner is served, and Michael and I chose different things for each course so we could have a taste of each other’s food. His soup was homemade tomato with fresh herbs and sour cream. I have never liked tomato soup but could eat that kind every day. I had French onion with Gruyere that was to die for. His salad was greens-based with smoked lake trout, wild rice and a horseradish/mayonnaise dressing. My salad was spinach-based with toasted hazelnuts, strawberries and a balsamic dressing. The third course is a palate-cleansing and refreshing sorbet. Are you ready for this? Our sorbet was Hibiscus and Ginger. There are no words, really.  For our main course Michael chose the Rittenhouse pork chop – a two-inch thick, center-cut chop seasoned with sage, thyme, rosemary, and garlic. It was slow roasted, could be cut with a fork, and was served with an apple marmalade glaze and pan jus. I had the Chicken Champagne with garlic mashed potatoes and fresh asparagus. The sauce served over all of this was delicate and had flavors I couldn’t identify, because I cook with a crockpot three times a week and consider homemade tacos a really good meal.

When it came time for dessert, we looked at each other doubtfully – we were already stuffed. Oh well. Michael had a vanilla panna cotta – a silky, eggless custard with Bayfield fresh blueberries, a rhubarb sauce and an almond cookie. Once again, I have no idea how to describe all these textures and amazing flavors. We could only look at each other with each bite and say nothing, which was saying a lot.

My dessert was a dark chocolate ganache cake with a tart raspberry sauce, ice cream, homemade whipped cream and shaved European chocolate. At this point I wouldn’t have known the difference between Hershey’s chocolate and Belgian chocolate, because I was wondering if we were going to walk or waddle out of the Rittenhouse after our meal. I think we waddled. We walked around Bayfield after dinner, and sat down by the marina for a while, enjoying the setting sun and the cooling air.

That night when we returned to our little Woodside Cottage, we remarked again how nice it was going to be to sleep in and not to not have any particular schedule to adhere to. No meetings, no paperwork.

Sunday morning I took this photo – right outside our cabin’s porch was a hanging basket of fuchsia (thank you for telling me what these are, Tauni!). I was so taken by these pink round buds, and then the unique way they opened and bloomed.

Aren’t these lovely?

The constant, soothing birdsong, the poplar leaves rustling in the soft breeze, the flowers and the water all around us – what a tonic it was for us on our anniversary weekend.

On Sunday morning we ate at The Egg Toss (one crunchy omelet was enough for the year so we didn’t go to Greunke’s again) and had a fantastic breakfast. Michael had his usual, and I tried whole grain buckwheat pancakes and a smoked chicken sausage with oats and chopped apples inside. Sounds iffy, tasted indescribably yummy.

And since we browsed antiques for Michael, we had to browse books for me. We walked around this tiny and well-stocked used book shop in Bayfield for a while before reluctantly heading for home.

You know, it’s not as if we don’t already live in a beautiful and relatively quiet part of the country. Northern Minnesota is one of the most gorgeous places on the planet, in my humble opinion. But visiting Bayfield and Madeline Island was so fun and restful. We feel rejuvenated and are looking forward to planning our next getaway. We’re thinking about going up the North Shore of Lake Superior next time, maybe this fall or for our 29th anniversary.

But for our 30th anniversary, in 2011, we’re talking Alps. We’re talking Scottish Highlands. We’re talking Norwegian Fjords.

Oh, yes, we’re talking…

The house we lived in for almost twenty-four years has finally sold. It has been on the market for nine months, and I was shocked and mildly offended that scores of people weren’t lining up with offers on the first day it was listed. After all, it’s such a lovely home, in a quiet area not far from a river, a park and Lake Superior, with wonderful neighbors, a hand-carved fireplace, a large kitchen, four bedrooms, two baths, and loads of charm that comes with a house built in 1895. (Apparently not every looker appreciated the small back yard or the black and white toile wallpaper in the bedroom, however.)  🙂

I cried on the day we moved in and I cried on the day we moved out. And a few days in between too, because a lot of life happened in that house.

My husband had been a homeowner before, but it was the first house I’ve ever owned. I cried on our first day there – September 24, 1984 – because it needed so much work and I had no vision for what Michael, my hardworking and talented carpenter man, could do. The house had an ugly and tiny kitchen, so small there was no room for a refrigerator, so it had to be put in the mudroom. And what the heck is a mudroom? this former Southern California girl asked when she and her husband started looking at houses so long ago – (Minnesota really does have a culture all its own.) The kitchen had orange metal cabinets. The banister on the stairs had white, beige, mint green, electric blue and dark brown coats of paint on it, in that order. The “master” bedroom had what Michael called Buffalo Board on the walls. (Don’t even ask.) The window trim was spray-painted purple and white. The windows all throughout the house were so leaky that the curtains would billow inside when the wind blew outside. The bathroom had a diagonal slant to the ceiling that made standing up impossible in certain places. The basement leaked when it rained.

It was no surprise that this old and neglected house sat empty for some time. We paid $27,000 for it and wondered if we could afford the monthly payment of $268.66. Could we really come up with that kind of money, and pay the taxes and utilities, every month for fifteen years? I was nervous. And not all that excited about living in a dump.

But Michael was thrilled. He saw the Victorian charm and dignified bones of the house. He saw where walls could be taken out to make larger rooms, and where supporting beams could be put up, and new windows installed. He saw where one-fourth of the back of the house could just be ripped off, and a gorgeous and spacious two-bedroom addition built on, to make it a four bedroom home. He saw where the ceiling could be raised and a dormer built for the bathroom. He saw beautiful woodwork under all the painted spindles. He saw the perfect spot for a half-bath in a good-sized closet off the kitchen. He saw hostas, azaleas, tulips and poppies where there were just dandelions in profusion. He could see new plaster on every wall, new doors hung, crown molding placed at the high ceilings, nice new flooring and carpet. And perhaps what he envisioned most clearly was the potential to add on a bazillion square feet to the existing garage, making a ginormous man-space to hold his four-wheeler, his snowmobile, countless carpenter items and a behemoth barrel wood-stove. He always lamented the fact that the huge garage never expanded enough to also hold his fishing boat.

I cried on the day we moved out of our house – March 8, 2008 – because Michael’s hard work had turned a dreary dump into a warm, cheerful and peaceful home I loved. I was not anxious to leave it behind for a bigger place with a bigger mortgage and a bigger yard in Uppityville, just a few miles down the road. I had settled in well at the old place after a couple of decades. I liked the big kitchen with the red walls and the Delft accents. I liked the fact that it was paid off. I cherished the memories, and wanted to make some more there. I loved getting up early and sitting by the fire in the small hearth while I read, preparing for the day ahead. I loved that Bible studies were continually held in that house, that friends and family were welcomed frequently for years. I pictured myself living in that home until I was old and gray.

But some things you cling to are not meant to be. So you grieve and wail and get the sadness all worked out of yourself until you can wipe your tears, square your shoulders, take a deep breath and embrace what is next.

It has taken me a long time to embrace what is next, but I’m doing it. I’ve got my arms around it now – maybe it’s still a tentative hug I’m giving, but at least I’m no longer turning my back to it and pretending like it’s not there.

We will hand the keys over to the new owners on Wednesday, July 1st. One night soon, our youngest daughter and I are going to take an inflatable mattress over to the old house, which of course is empty and waiting for its new people. Sara and I plan to spend one final night there, reminiscing, looking at the leaf-filtered light streaming in the windows as the sun sets, listening one last time to the familiar house creaks and neighborhood noises, quietly walking through the rooms, and saying goodbye to dear neighbors.

I’m thankful our house finally sold. I’m thankful for the beloved daughters we raised in that home. I’m thankful that God brought us through hard times and lavished us with laughter and wonderful times there. I’m thankful for the lessons we learned there. And I’m thankful that I’m married to someone who always sees what is possible, in contrast to how I often see what is wrong.

I’m also thankful that Michael looks at me with the same visionary eye that he had for that big, shabby house. He looks beyond what others might see outwardly, and sees warmth, good bones and dignity, the potential for years of peaceful and cheerful living. He sees, like God does, what is possible.

Lord, today I thank you for the homes you have blessed us with. I’m so aware that many of your children all over the world do not know where they’ll lay their heads tonight, but for some reason, you’ve given us a home. Thank you. And Father, I thank you again for Michael. Thank you for giving me a husband who always sees what is possible, in houses and in people…especially in me.

Gratefully settling in,

Yesterday I shared about how much I’ve enjoyed the books by Vinita Hampton Wright. Today’s (longish) quote is from her book Days of Deepening Friendship, and its substance keeps rolling around in my mind and heart. This excellent book is actually about deepening our relationship with God, but Ms. Wright’s blessedly candid words below are about marriage:

“For instance, in the beginning of a marriage, infatuation takes you quite a way, and you are sure that what you’re experiencing is fully love. The years show you otherwise; you learn love layer by layer, wound by wound, gift by gift, and revelation by revelation. After years of living with this person, you wake up one day and realize how faulty and frail and self-serving your love really is. You discover so many falsehoods in yourself that have remained, magically, hidden from yourself.

After a few years of marriage, love no longer connected my husband and me at the surface of life; it submerged us in periods of darkness and confusion out of which we had to feel and fight our way. It wasn’t anyone’s fault – it was simply the way our love developed in the real world. After a while, though, what I hungered for most was to be the truest, kindest, and most honest friend to this man that it’s possible to be. And I wanted him to express to me the truest, deepest friendship possible. He and I have come to understand that if the friendship keeps growing, so many other things heal and get better. The harshest conflicts lose their power when the friendship grabs hold. This intimate, tenacious love makes possible repentance and conversion, and it gives energy to our courage and grace.”

Michael and I are getting ready to celebrate twenty-eight years of marriage. As we find our way through the new dynamics that his Parkinson’s disease presents, my goals and desires as a wife are changing. I used to picture us retiring together on a lake, traveling to new places each year, entertaining friends over home-cooked meals, chatting companionably by a fire in the cool Minnesota evenings, working on projects together.

I’m not sure many of these dreams will happen now, and the reason why this is okay is because we belong to the Lord. He is ours and we are His. We may not understand all that He allows, but we love and trust Him with our lives.

When I read this above-quoted portion of Vinita Hampton Wright’s newest book, I put my head down and wept. She put in words what my heart has been yearning for ever since I realized that European trips, frequent fellowship with other couples, a cabin on a lake, intimate conversations and even vigor were going to go by the wayside.

As our new normal plays out, I think less about the fun and adventure we might have had, and more about learning to love Michael in ways that make him feel like I’m the “truest, kindest, deepest” friend he has ever had.

If any of us are granted deathbeds someday, we may soberly ponder and even sadly voice our regrets as our earthly lives ebb away.

Would anyone ever regret loving their spouse so unselfishly? I still have a long way to go on this path, but I fully intend to have no such regret.

Last summer my friend Carole Seid, who has exquisite and discerning taste in books, recommended a few titles to me. She knows books (and sells books) and travels around the country showing people how they can effectively home school their children with a good math program and a library card, and she always clues me in on the most wonderful reads. One of the books Carole told me about last year led to my finding another new author I dearly love. I’ll tell you about that in a minute or six.

Carole told me to read Girl Meets God by Lauren Winner, and it was a marvelous book about a brilliant young woman who grew up a nominal Reformed Jew, then converted to stringent Orthodox Judaism, then years later became a Christian, because she grew convinced that Jesus is who He claimed to be: God. Because Lauren Winner’s books are so outstanding, I took note when she recommended an author in an online interview she gave.

I love to read, and I am a Christian, but I’ve never been a devoted fan of Christian fiction. I know this genre is popular and a blessing to many people, but I’ve always been a bit bemused at how so many of the stories end with a perfectly tied bow and everyone lives happily ever after, which is not how it is in real life. The themes always seem the same: people have big trouble, then the people say the sinner’s prayer, then everything falls into place and the people are groovy for the rest of their lives. I don’t know about you, but this is not how things have unfolded in my life. And to be fair, I know that sometimes we do have big trouble, and we do cry out to Jesus and He does intervene in miraculous ways and things do improve and we get set straight. How awe-struck and thankful I am for those times! But then the next wave of “learning opportunities” comes crashing, and we see again what it means to walk by faith and not by sight. We spend our Christian lives (hopefully) holding on to His hand in the dark, rejoicing and praising Him when light dawns but knowing that nightfall will most certainly come again and we’ll be desperately groping for His hand again. But that could be another blog post. Back to Lauren Winner.

Ms. Winner was asked in an interview about her opinion on the state of Christian fiction, and she replied (surprisingly to me), “I think it’s improving, especially with writers out there like Vinita Hampton Wright.”

I had never heard of Vinita Hampton Wright, but I was pleased to find that our local library had most of her books, and I checked them out. All the old adages apply here – I could not put Wright’s books down, I did not want them to end, I was transported by her elegant writing directly into the lives of her characters, and more. I think I recommended Wright’s Grace at Bender Springs and Velma Still Cooks in Leeway to every single reading friend I have. These are books that are seamlessly and brilliantly written, never trite, full of real problems (some terribly serious) and flawed people who are all in various stages of unbelief, of slow, meandering conversion and fruitful, mature faith. Vinita Hampton Wright creates characters you care about, some who evoke visceral reactions as their struggles are revealed on the pages. You won’t find a deeply troubled person in these books who just says a prayer to ask Jesus into their hearts and then finds smooth sailing from that day forward. Wright instead writes books that look more like our own lives. She writes about believers who struggle with sin and depression, people who have messed up children and who are weary of monotonous and sometimes precarious living. She writes more about the day-to-day glimmers of God’s glory that slowly transform our ordinary lives, rather than the magnificent, blinding epiphanies Christians are often led to believe they need and will receive if they would only pray.

Ms. Wright’s newest book is non-fiction and I’m starting on my second reading of it. It’s called Days of Deepening Friendship – For the Woman Who Wants Authentic Life with God.  I devoured it the first time (on my Kindle) and now will begin to slowly re-read and savor the paperback copy I have, doing the assignments as my own mini-retreat and journey toward deeper friendship with God.

Tomorrow I will share one of the many quotes by Vinita Hampton Wright that recently struck my heart. She wrote something so candid and poignant it made me cry and yearn.

Have you read Vinita? If not, I hope you will.