Two years

Written by jamie on June 16th, 2010

Drew and I are quickly approaching our second anniversary. It seems as if the time has just flown by. Friends are commenting, “Are you sure it’s two years? It’s got to be just one…” Drew will usually respond, sounding absolutely exhausted, “No, it feels like FIVE.” To which he usually gets a stink eye or a playful shove from me.

The past couple weeks I’ve been gearing up for the 21st of June, planning little surprises and gifts for my hubby. We decided months ago that we were going to take our anniversary off and give ourselves a long weekend. To make sure we weren’t distracted by house chores and clutter, we booked a hotel room. We’re not even going out of town, but just getting out of the house will feel like a retreat. We’re looking forward to a weekend of rest and time together. Sleeping in and cuddling together, having drinks in the afternoon, and just enjoying each other. Drew even rented a convertible, so we can cruise around town in the 100 degree heat in style. Sweet.

A friend last week commented, “I still think of you two as newlyweds!” I responded, “I still feel like a newlywed.” I really do. Sometimes I look at Drew and get the little giddy, butterfly feeling. This week, every time I’ve thought about him, I’ve just smiled to myself, thinking about how totally in love with him I am. That’s a great feeling.

Those who know Drew and I know that we have an odd little love story. We’re not the couple you’d expect to see together. Despite the foot difference in height, there are some other aspects that make us seem like the odd couple. Our personalities are quite different. When we first met each other, we didn’t like each other. I thought to myself, “What a profane heathen,” as he made his crude jokes and drank beer Sunday afternoon after church. He looked at me and thought, “What a stuck up, prissy little church girl,” as I prayed for our Sunday afternoon meal and God to bless our conversation. Despite the fact that he was married at the time and we were obviously not looking to each other for any sort of romantic interest, we were not going to be pursuing each other.

Fast forward about five years. I had been on tour with the African Children’s Choir; he had been through a divorce and some major life changes. We had sort of kept in touch, so when I returned home, I got a friendly hug and a welcome back, and a lunch invite. I went to lunch with him and a good friend of his (who has since become like a big brother to me) and his friend’s son. At the end of the lunch, I cracked open my fortune cookie to read, “The time is right for a friendly chat to lead to romance.” I laughed about it, slipped it into my wallet and forgot about it until over a year later, when Drew and I were dating. We might not have been dating had that good friend not told Drew, “She’s totally into you!” (I wasn’t) “You should follow up with that!” (he did).

Long story short, this odd couple decided to give us a shot, and were pleasantly surprised at how well we worked. We often have “What the hell moments,” where we look at each other and wonder how in the hell we ended up together. However it happened, this church girl and heathen man are glad it did.

Happy Anniversary, baby. Here’s to many, many more.

 

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Popcorn

Written by jamie on June 9th, 2010

Ninety-nine year old Dick loves popcorn. He sat in his electric scooter, mesmerized as he watched the popcorn machine explode with freshly popped kernels.

“If you hadn’t told me what this was, and if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes, I wouldn’t believe it,” he declared. “Things sure have changed.” He was so amazed at the machine that he made that same statement three times.

In my job with seniors, I look for opportunities to bless my residents. Sometimes it’s simply a greeting by name, a smile, or a hug. If possible though, I like tangible blessings. When I discovered that Dick was a lover of popcorn, I realized I was missing a perfect opportunity to bless him. Every Wednesday afternoon at 1:45, I walk upstairs to our television room and crank up the popcorn machine. When the machine heats up, I squeeze the large tube of oil/butter (ew) which is either a solid blob or a liquid-y slippery mess, depending on the season.  One hot summer day, when I poured out the kernels, an already popped kernel fell out. After the kernels are tossed in, I close the door. My boss informed me that one time she forgot to close the door and had popcorn flying everywhere. I make sure never to forget that.

One afternoon I decided to take a bag of that piping hot popcorn to Dick. I walked to the end of the hallway and knocked on his door. When I walked in and handed him the bag, he broke into a huge smile. He was ever so thankful and told me so about eight times. Since then, I make sure to save an extra big bag for him.

When I returned to work after vacation in April, I was working at the computer, with my back to the door. I heard a small voice, and I turned around, and Dick was in the doorway.

“You abandoned me.”

He was just teasing, but apparently my boss had forgotten to pop the popcorn while I was away, and Dick came looking for me. I was nowhere to be found. Good to know I was missed. I think I brought him an extra helping that week to make up for it.

So, every week, without fail, I have delivered popcorn to Dick. Some weeks his memory slips, and he’s surprised when I come knocking on his door. Other weeks, he’s following me around, asking what time I’ll be making it. When he’s feeling up to it, he makes the trip up on the elevator and watches the popcorn pop. He tells me seeing me is an added bonus (he’s a bit of a flirt… don’t tell Drew, but I don’t mind too much), and once he informed me that if I ever ran for office, he’d vote for me. He even gave me an Easter lily to thank me. (I gave it to the gardening committee, where it’s now planted in the garden outside our building. I figured I’d probably kill it.)

It’s amazing to me that a simple bag of popcorn will make a man’s week. It doesn’t take much to be a blessing. I hope that I can deliver many more bags. That smile makes it all worthwhile.

 

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Technology

Written by jamie on June 6th, 2010

Meet my new phone, Palm Pixi. I must admit, I have fallen in love with it over the past three weeks or so. I have the power of the internet at my fingertips (because I don’t spend enough time on Facebook), and a terrific calendar that is helping me keep a hectic life a bit more sorted. With iPhones and new, fancy smart phones on almost everyone’s hip, I was starting to feel a little left out with my old flip phone.

Not that flip phones are totally antiquated and I turn my nose up at them. My flip phone was faithful. When Drew and I went to pick out my new phone years ago (my engagement gift… along with the ring), I looked at all the models and played with some of the fancier ones. Drew tried to push me toward a “smart phone.” It was enticing, but the cheap, “missionary” mindset that is ever present in me prevailed. I headed toward the flip phone at the end of the row of model phones, the one that was free with mail in rebate. As often happens in my brain, I thought, “There are people starving all over the world and I want a fancy phone?” I settled with the cheap phone. I decided it was sufficient for me, at that stage in my life. And it was a good, faithful phone.

I still have a torn relationship with technology. It’s a great thing, but I often wonder how much we need. It’s so expensive, and it sucks us in, leaving us constantly wanting more. A bigger TV, more pixels, more ram… we want it. After being overseas and seeing nations that have so little, I often feel disgusted at our nation’s materialistic mindset.

I sometimes think I was born into the wrong generation. I watch Lord of the Rings, and dream of wearing long, flowing dresses and knowing how to ride horses with ease. I see movies from the 30s and 40s, and see pictures from my resident’s glory days, and think how I would have loved living then. People seemed so classy, relationships seemed so sincere, and singers really knew how to sing. No auto-tuning back then. Instead, I live in the generation of texting and technology that I can barely keep up with.

I am trying to have a better attitude toward technology. Rather than living in denial of the ever changing world around me, I am trying to embrace it. Just because I have a fancy looking phone doesn’t mean that I hate starving children in Africa. It simply means I am embracing the ways that technology can benefit my life.

Sometimes, technology can simply be fun. When Drew and I save up enough money, we would like to buy a Wii. We have bowled, sword fought, and Mario Karted enough to know that we’d have great fun with one. I love the fact that Wii encourages you to be physical, rather than simply sit on the couch. And it’s great for embarrassing videos…

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I know it won’t be long before Drew reveals the embarrassing videos of me.

 

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Early morning ramblings

Written by jamie on June 4th, 2010

In the workbook The Creative Call, author Janice Elsheimer encourages readers to write in their artist’s daybook every day. The artist’s daybook is essentially your journal. Not only does she encourage you to write in it daily, she advocates writing first thing in the morning. I used to do daily quiet time first thing in the morning, and have since slacked off in this area. I decided to give it a shot.

The first morning I tried it, I was half asleep as I stumbled into my music room/quiet space. I picked up my black and white floral journal and wrote some random words and phrases. I don’t know that anything made sense, and I didn’t feel very inspired by it. I honestly expected it to flow more and feel more spiritual.

I tried it again this morning. I set up my coffee last night so that I’d have a cup waiting for me. I figure that might be incentive to drag myself out of bed. Unfortunately, I didn’t set the delay timer quite right, so I staggered out of bed to start the coffee, then came back for some cuddle time with hubby until it was ready. Listening to the steaming water flowing through the coffee grinds did make me a bit more excited about the prospect of being vertical.

I fixed my cup of morning bliss, and retreated to the quiet space. I picked up my journal and began with random phrases to get my brain moving until the caffeine kicked in. I gave myself a bit of grace, and took a minute to listen to the birds chirping and even cracked the blinds so I could see the birds perched on the feeder outside. I’ve not been a morning person lately, and should allow myself a moment before expecting insightful greatness first thing in the morning. Besides, part of the purpose of this early morning exercise is to listen. First thing in the morning, you’re still fresh and have none of the day’s happenings to interfere with your brain quite yet. It’s easier to hear from God.

I sipped my vanilla flavored coffee, and thoughtfully began to write. I don’t know if it was the coffee’s help, or maybe I just felt more inspired, but writing came easier than the last time I tried this. I wrote four pages. It was mainly about some frustrations that have been churning below the surface of my life. It’s always helpful to me to get such things out on paper. They lose some of their power over your life when you take pen to paper (or fingers to keyboard). One of my favorite quotes that I ran across recently says:

“Thoughts disentangle themselves when they pass through your fingertips.”
-Dawson Trotman

I think part of it is that I see how ridiculous a lot of it is when I see it before me. But when it’s all a jumble in my brain, it holds more power than I realize.

So like any new thing, I will give this early morning journaling a fair chance before deciding I’d rather stay in bed. This morning showed me that it can be productive. As my body and brain grow more used to it, I believe that God will continue to speak to me. With my journal and a cup of coffee by my side, I think it will be a great way to start the day.

 

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