Wednesday, September 17, 2003
Just Like Dear Ol' Dad
Every little girl wants to marry a man just like her Daddy. The same was true for me (most days, anyway) as I was growing up. Dad had high hopes for me. "One day, honey, you're going to make some lucky guy a terrific wife," he would say as I stirred the macaroni and cheese on the stove. Or, "You're going to be Holiday at Home Queen!" Who wouldn't want to marry someone like that? He loved me. He believed in me.
I never did make Holiday at Home Queen... it all seemed like too much work and too much makeup for me. Besides, they were in Kettering... I was a Centerville chick. Dad jokes about it to this day, but I'm sure he's not disappointed.
I did marry someone from Centerville... the father of my three beautiful children ('nuther day, 'nuther blog). For a long time, I thought I had married someone just like dad. But as the years pass, times change, and people change. Our marriage ended after 13 years. (again... 'nuther day, 'nuther blog)
Dad changed, too. And in other parts of the country, another young man was changing. Michael fit right into our wacky little family. And I think Dad finally could say with heartfelt assurance that "one day, honey, you're going to make some lucky guy a terrific wife."
Michael and I have been married for nearly ten years. Over those years, I've seen changes in my Dad. He's always been a "believer" in some sense. I remember him practicing a sermon for the City Mission from behind the family bar (how appropriate:-) But over the past several years, he's become involved in small groups... accountability groups... and has even been witnessing to his co-workers and friends of The Ghetto" at the Moraine Airpark" (home for his small plane). Suddenly, at least from my point of view, he's become a local evangelist -- but in a quiet, gentle, "lifestyle evangelism" way. He leads by example. He witnesses by example. He introduces men to the Lord by example.
When Michael's at work, he regularly speaks of his church and he keeps a bible in his desk, but he's not one to pound folks over the head with it. He's now a deacon at church. He quietly cleans, landscapes, and ministers -- many times unnoticed by others. Michael has been "blogging" since January. He snuck into the blog world and now has quite a large readership. He's showing Christians and non-Christians alike what real life Christianity is. He leads by example. He witnesses by example. He introduces folks in cyberspace to the Lord by example.
Darned if I didn't go and marry a guy just like Dad.
Every little girl wants to marry a man just like her Daddy. The same was true for me (most days, anyway) as I was growing up. Dad had high hopes for me. "One day, honey, you're going to make some lucky guy a terrific wife," he would say as I stirred the macaroni and cheese on the stove. Or, "You're going to be Holiday at Home Queen!" Who wouldn't want to marry someone like that? He loved me. He believed in me.
I never did make Holiday at Home Queen... it all seemed like too much work and too much makeup for me. Besides, they were in Kettering... I was a Centerville chick. Dad jokes about it to this day, but I'm sure he's not disappointed.
I did marry someone from Centerville... the father of my three beautiful children ('nuther day, 'nuther blog). For a long time, I thought I had married someone just like dad. But as the years pass, times change, and people change. Our marriage ended after 13 years. (again... 'nuther day, 'nuther blog)
Dad changed, too. And in other parts of the country, another young man was changing. Michael fit right into our wacky little family. And I think Dad finally could say with heartfelt assurance that "one day, honey, you're going to make some lucky guy a terrific wife."
Michael and I have been married for nearly ten years. Over those years, I've seen changes in my Dad. He's always been a "believer" in some sense. I remember him practicing a sermon for the City Mission from behind the family bar (how appropriate:-) But over the past several years, he's become involved in small groups... accountability groups... and has even been witnessing to his co-workers and friends of The Ghetto" at the Moraine Airpark" (home for his small plane). Suddenly, at least from my point of view, he's become a local evangelist -- but in a quiet, gentle, "lifestyle evangelism" way. He leads by example. He witnesses by example. He introduces men to the Lord by example.
When Michael's at work, he regularly speaks of his church and he keeps a bible in his desk, but he's not one to pound folks over the head with it. He's now a deacon at church. He quietly cleans, landscapes, and ministers -- many times unnoticed by others. Michael has been "blogging" since January. He snuck into the blog world and now has quite a large readership. He's showing Christians and non-Christians alike what real life Christianity is. He leads by example. He witnesses by example. He introduces folks in cyberspace to the Lord by example.
Darned if I didn't go and marry a guy just like Dad.
Tuesday, September 16, 2003
Isn't that just like God?
Over the last two years, we've struggled with our finances because I lost my job shortly after the 9-11 tragedies and haven't been able to get a job that pays even half what I made before. Since then, I've worked at Starbucks (has to be my all-time favorite), for an attorney (I had the WORST boss) and for myself (I have the BEST boss). I'm happy doing what I'm doing now (computer technical support), but I don't know if I can wing it financially in the long run. It's about a third or less of my previous full-time managerial salary.
As I sit down to do an accounting of what we owe and whom we owe, I become overwhelmed with the enormity of the task. I ask for Michael's support (emotionally, spiritually, physically), and he is there. All he gives me are words of encouragement and says things like, "even if we have to live under a rock somewhere, as long as I'm with you, I'll be fine." Or, "even if we're in debtor's prison, at least we'll be together."
Isn't that just like God?
Today, I got a call from my surgeon's office. I didn't actually talk to him... just his "lackey." She said that Dr. P. saw something. Something? What? A mouse? A Mercedes? A paperclip? All she could tell me was that it said "probable adhesions." I've had that before... it means surgery. See... I had gastric bypass three years ago. I'm thrilled with my results -- I've lost over 100 pounds. But since then, I've had 2 more surgeries. One to remove my gallbladder... no big deal. And one to relieve the massive pain I was having which was caused by adhesions. Michael was there for every minute of that ordeal. And now what does Michael do? He put his arms around me while I sobbed after hanging up the phone. He said, "we'll get through this... we always do. You're gonna be fine. I love you."
Isn't that just like God?
They're scheduling yet another test... an upper GI where they make me swallow liquid thicker than cement. It will take all day long because it takes so long for the cement to set up and take up residence in my innards. I'm not looking forward to that test... not one bit. I'm definitely not looking forward to the surgery that I KNOW he's going to want to do to fix it. But Michael calms me down and says, "Don't worry about things that haven't happened yet. I'll be there. I'll be with you. It's gonna be fine."
Isn't that just like God?
Ever pull out those baby name books to see what names mean? Check out Michael
Michael: Who is like unto God.
(or, my translation... Isn't that just like God?)
Over the last two years, we've struggled with our finances because I lost my job shortly after the 9-11 tragedies and haven't been able to get a job that pays even half what I made before. Since then, I've worked at Starbucks (has to be my all-time favorite), for an attorney (I had the WORST boss) and for myself (I have the BEST boss). I'm happy doing what I'm doing now (computer technical support), but I don't know if I can wing it financially in the long run. It's about a third or less of my previous full-time managerial salary.
As I sit down to do an accounting of what we owe and whom we owe, I become overwhelmed with the enormity of the task. I ask for Michael's support (emotionally, spiritually, physically), and he is there. All he gives me are words of encouragement and says things like, "even if we have to live under a rock somewhere, as long as I'm with you, I'll be fine." Or, "even if we're in debtor's prison, at least we'll be together."
Isn't that just like God?
Today, I got a call from my surgeon's office. I didn't actually talk to him... just his "lackey." She said that Dr. P. saw something. Something? What? A mouse? A Mercedes? A paperclip? All she could tell me was that it said "probable adhesions." I've had that before... it means surgery. See... I had gastric bypass three years ago. I'm thrilled with my results -- I've lost over 100 pounds. But since then, I've had 2 more surgeries. One to remove my gallbladder... no big deal. And one to relieve the massive pain I was having which was caused by adhesions. Michael was there for every minute of that ordeal. And now what does Michael do? He put his arms around me while I sobbed after hanging up the phone. He said, "we'll get through this... we always do. You're gonna be fine. I love you."
Isn't that just like God?
They're scheduling yet another test... an upper GI where they make me swallow liquid thicker than cement. It will take all day long because it takes so long for the cement to set up and take up residence in my innards. I'm not looking forward to that test... not one bit. I'm definitely not looking forward to the surgery that I KNOW he's going to want to do to fix it. But Michael calms me down and says, "Don't worry about things that haven't happened yet. I'll be there. I'll be with you. It's gonna be fine."
Isn't that just like God?
Ever pull out those baby name books to see what names mean? Check out Michael
Michael: Who is like unto God.
(or, my translation... Isn't that just like God?)
Friday, September 12, 2003
McDonald's, McChildren & the McChrysler
Somewhere in McCanada, two preschoolers jumped in the family McCar (a McChrysler) and headed to McDonald's. No doubt to get a McGriddle.
Somewhere in McCanada, two preschoolers jumped in the family McCar (a McChrysler) and headed to McDonald's. No doubt to get a McGriddle.
Thursday, September 11, 2003
Where Were You?
Alan Jackson sang those words shortly after 9/11... "Where were you when the world stopped turning...?" Everyone remembers where they were and what they were doing when they heard the news. People still talk about what they were doing when Kennedy was shot (I was toddling around the house, I assume... I was less than two years old).
Michael called me from the station and said "turn on any major network." After a few minutes of watching in horror, I went to Starbucks and met up with Kim where we sat in shock. Kim lived in Oklahoma City when the Alfred P. Murrah building was bombed, so she was quite upset as she recounted the story to me. As the stories of the twin towers, the Pentagon, and the field in Pennsylvania unfolded, we clung to our coffee cups and prayed.
Then, a woman came rushing in, visibly shaken. She was crying and hoping to find some help inside Starbucks. She approached a table of men, and they assumed she was upset about the horrific events. As it turned out, she had hit a bird on the highway, and it was stuck in the grill of her car. She needed a man to come out and remove it. One of the men gladly went outside to assist her... after all, it was a somber morning, and being neighborly was the right thing to do.
Minutes later, the man returned, hardly able to contain his laughter. How dare he? You can't laugh at such a time as this! However, when he explained himself, I had to say to myself, "lips, don't unpurse." Apparently, the bird was stuck beyond any hope of a safe rescue. He pulled and jiggled and pushed and prodded... to no avail. So he yanked as hard as he could. Result? Decapitated bird.
That poor man... can you hear him now?
"Where were you? What were you doing?"
"Beheading a bird at Starbucks."
I'm not trying to be flippant. Michael said that evening, "Our lives our changed forever. Things will never be the same." But that bird showed me that life, indeed, does go on... well, except for him. And our lives, in reality, have not changed all that much. (Except Michael has to take his shoes off in the airport). We still have coffee to drink, we still have friends to drink it with and, even in the midst of despair, we can find something to smile about. Poor bird.
Alan Jackson sang those words shortly after 9/11... "Where were you when the world stopped turning...?" Everyone remembers where they were and what they were doing when they heard the news. People still talk about what they were doing when Kennedy was shot (I was toddling around the house, I assume... I was less than two years old).
Michael called me from the station and said "turn on any major network." After a few minutes of watching in horror, I went to Starbucks and met up with Kim where we sat in shock. Kim lived in Oklahoma City when the Alfred P. Murrah building was bombed, so she was quite upset as she recounted the story to me. As the stories of the twin towers, the Pentagon, and the field in Pennsylvania unfolded, we clung to our coffee cups and prayed.
Then, a woman came rushing in, visibly shaken. She was crying and hoping to find some help inside Starbucks. She approached a table of men, and they assumed she was upset about the horrific events. As it turned out, she had hit a bird on the highway, and it was stuck in the grill of her car. She needed a man to come out and remove it. One of the men gladly went outside to assist her... after all, it was a somber morning, and being neighborly was the right thing to do.
Minutes later, the man returned, hardly able to contain his laughter. How dare he? You can't laugh at such a time as this! However, when he explained himself, I had to say to myself, "lips, don't unpurse." Apparently, the bird was stuck beyond any hope of a safe rescue. He pulled and jiggled and pushed and prodded... to no avail. So he yanked as hard as he could. Result? Decapitated bird.
That poor man... can you hear him now?
"Where were you? What were you doing?"
"Beheading a bird at Starbucks."
I'm not trying to be flippant. Michael said that evening, "Our lives our changed forever. Things will never be the same." But that bird showed me that life, indeed, does go on... well, except for him. And our lives, in reality, have not changed all that much. (Except Michael has to take his shoes off in the airport). We still have coffee to drink, we still have friends to drink it with and, even in the midst of despair, we can find something to smile about. Poor bird.
Thursday, September 04, 2003
Cedar(ville) Fever
My sister-in-law, Terry, e-mailed and called me to tell me about a position for Michael at Cedarville University in Cedarville, Ohio (where she works). I won't go into the details of it since Michael has already blogged about it. It's not quite a conspiracy to get him to move to Ohio -- yet. But after my mom found out the job opening, she had to call to find out what we thought.
Cedarville is an itty bitty town in Ohio just east of Xenia (where a HUGE tornado hit in 1974) and south of Springfield. More important, though, is its proximity to Centerville -- my home town. My folks are there. My brother and his family are nearby. "Home" is calling me.
My friend, Kim, moved back to her home (or close to it) last year. Her father passed away not long after they got there. Another friend, Rebekah, moved back home after her father passed away so she could be closer to her mother. While my parents are in excellent health, I know that life is short. We lost 3 friends in the last couple of months -- ages 48, 53 and 57. Two of those were sudden and totally unexpected. I would love to be closer to my family during their "twilight" years.
Oh, and did I mention how close to WAYNEsville this place is?? There's Wayne County, Wayne Township, and Waynesville. There's even a town called Wayne. We were meant to be there.
And then there's the food. I can taste the Skyline now. Oooh, and Marion's pizza. Thin crust... light sauce... great cheese... and ham. And Montgomery Inn ribs.
Oh yeah, and I miss my parents.
But home is where the heart is. And home is where the love of my life is. And, for now, that's right here. Besides... I'd miss the Spurs too much, right? And church. And friends. But still... I remain hopeful. One day, Michael Main, you're going to live in Ohio and you're going to LOVE IT!
My sister-in-law, Terry, e-mailed and called me to tell me about a position for Michael at Cedarville University in Cedarville, Ohio (where she works). I won't go into the details of it since Michael has already blogged about it. It's not quite a conspiracy to get him to move to Ohio -- yet. But after my mom found out the job opening, she had to call to find out what we thought.
Cedarville is an itty bitty town in Ohio just east of Xenia (where a HUGE tornado hit in 1974) and south of Springfield. More important, though, is its proximity to Centerville -- my home town. My folks are there. My brother and his family are nearby. "Home" is calling me.
My friend, Kim, moved back to her home (or close to it) last year. Her father passed away not long after they got there. Another friend, Rebekah, moved back home after her father passed away so she could be closer to her mother. While my parents are in excellent health, I know that life is short. We lost 3 friends in the last couple of months -- ages 48, 53 and 57. Two of those were sudden and totally unexpected. I would love to be closer to my family during their "twilight" years.
Oh, and did I mention how close to WAYNEsville this place is?? There's Wayne County, Wayne Township, and Waynesville. There's even a town called Wayne. We were meant to be there.
And then there's the food. I can taste the Skyline now. Oooh, and Marion's pizza. Thin crust... light sauce... great cheese... and ham. And Montgomery Inn ribs.
Oh yeah, and I miss my parents.
But home is where the heart is. And home is where the love of my life is. And, for now, that's right here. Besides... I'd miss the Spurs too much, right? And church. And friends. But still... I remain hopeful. One day, Michael Main, you're going to live in Ohio and you're going to LOVE IT!
