wedding

 

Photo Courtesy of Ranella Photography

“We will shout for joy over your victories and lift up our banners in the name of our God.

May the Lord fulfill all your petitions.”  

Psalm 20:5

Last Saturday my daughter, Alicia, got married to Brian Vosburg, making her Alicia Robynn Vosburg.  The next day she changed her name on facebook and I got tears in my eyes.

My friends have asked me if I’m going to write about it and (to tell the truth) I don’t know how to.  The day was such a flash of light, such a fast blur that I can at best, piece together all of the beautiful parts.  I also see it as my daughter’s day – the day of the bride.  Those clichés you always hear about the wedding being “all about the bride” – they’re true. 

But, since I am a writer, I will write.  I’ll do my best to encapsulate one of the most complicated days of my life.

Here are my memories of Saturday, August 31^st.

1.  Alicia was beautiful.

Alicia was born beautiful; she’s lived a life of being beautiful.  But she’s the “pull my hair back in a ponytail and let’s go” kind of beautiful.  She’s casual and relaxed a bit on the tomboyish side.  

On her wedding day, my daughter looked like a Disney princess.  She had her hair and makeup done (thanks to her bridesmaids who whisked her away) and she wore her beautiful white dress that I had seen her pick out.  That day seemed so far away but had only been a couple of weeks before!

The dress fitting - David's Bridal

She had dark eyelashes that made her (already Mediterranean) eyes stand out and be the kind you see from far away. 

I walked into the “bride room” and saw her, surrounded by Ashley Z and Morgan and my heart melted.  She looked just like a bridal magazine…and no ponytail. 

2.  Brian was as cool as a cucumber.

Brian, my new son-in-law, seemed to take the day in stride.  He didn’t seem nervous or hurried or stressed.  He wore a tux with a white bow tie and shoes that made me think of the mafia.  He looked very handsome, and he was ready. 

“Are you nervous?” I asked him in the morning. 

“Yeah,” he smiled.  “But happy.” 

I smiled back.  Brian looked ready – like a kid about to go to Disneyland.  I wished for his composure… and was grateful for it at the same time.

3.  The bridesmaids looked so grown up and beautiful.

Photo Courtesy of Crystal Saxon

Pardon this point, but with the exception of three of the girls, I have known all of these eight (!) bridesmaids for quite a long time.  My niece, Renee, I have known the longest...:)  

 I would catch myself talking to them like they were still my former students, or they were Alicia’s friends coming over for a sleepover.   

In reality, they had all matured and grown and now came together for a reunion: all of them so different from one another;all of them holding special places in Alicia’s heart (and mine).  All of them looking gorgeous.  

Three of them brought their children who buzzed about the hallways and the grounds like their mothers once were – free and without care. 

It occurred to me as I watched them take pictures that they had all grown up.  They had all come together for Alicia.  It was a collection of personalities only Alicia could put together in one place.

The thought made me get tears.

4.  Brian and Alicia were surrounded by family.

Alicia and Brian have had two children, our most beloved Harmony and Alannah, who were the cutest flower girls God ever created.   The wedding was held in an orchard and the reception next door, literally at the home of Steve and Suzanne Lange, Brian’s step-father and mother.   

Steve officiated the service, which was beautiful.   The Lange’s even catered the food.  Brian and Renee Vosburg  (Brian’s father and step-mother)  were right there with us, bringing a special gift: wine with labels announcing the couple’s wedding.

Joe was the only brother who could make it and had come all the way from Seattle.  My sister-in-law, Shirley had come from Arizona.  Our beloved Alice (Mario’s “step-mother”) had come from New York City.  My parents were there from Tracy, despite having to leave the next morning at 4:00 a.m..  My sisters, nieces and nephews, Aunties and Uncles were there.   Ryans, Rodriguez’s, Harwells, Langes, Vosburgs…. 

Photo Courtesy Crystal Saxon Photography

Everywhere you looked were family, everyone in one place to celebrate.

5.  We got by with a little help from our friends.

“A little help” is only in reference from the Beatles song – in truth, we were flooded with it.  Thank God for the love of friends, who were there as soon as preparations started.  A local artist and friend of our daughter, Kim Ranella, did all of the flowers.   Her son, Tyler, and another friend of Alicia’s, Crystal, were the photographers.   

Our DeeJay was in a car accident and was hospitalized during the wedding.  Instead of the party being without music, a friend of Steve’s stepped in and set up a whole music system to save the day.   

People stepped in to do whatever was needed and there is so much needed to be done for a wedding.  Suzanne and her sister, Nancy, worked so hard that the food was served up hot and delicious.   

Thank you, thank you, thank you…..

6.  Mario prayed and I cried.

Mario was Mario, thank God.

When it came time for the toast, he faced the bride and groom and made his toast be more of a prayer.  He told them both how much we loved them and prayed for them.  He wished them the love and commitment that we had shared it. 

I was grateful for videography because I knew I couldn’t possibly absorb the true beauty of the moment.  Halfway through what Mario said, I could no longer keep back my tears and my granddaughter, Alannah, tried to cheer me up by being silly as I held her. 

Thank you, Jesus.

7.  Butterfly Kisses

The Father-daughter dance was to “Butterfly Kisses” where both Dad and Daughter cried and danced.  I was so touched and moved and joyful…  It had long been her dream to dance with Mario to that song and there it was – happening right before me. 

The Mother and Son dance came next and I don’t remember the song, but I do remember Suzanne being joyful.  It made me smile….

8.  We all danced – and danced!!

It was so fun.

My Uncle Jim used to say “I’ll dance at your wedding” when we brought him coffee.  I used to wonder what he meant.  Now I think I know what he meant:    “I’ll celebrate the day that will be one of the happiest in your life by making a total fool of myself on the dance floor”. 

Out came the the robot, the insane gestures, the shimmy and the kicks!  

We danced and danced.

Harmony and Alannah seemed to enjoy it the most, and Ashley and Morgan entertained them by dancing dance after dance with them. 

It was incredible. 

Crystal Saxon Photography

This morning I was thinking that we only have been back five and a half months.  We moved back to the USA from Africa, bought a repo-house and restored it, then married off a daughter.  Not bad…

I opened my Bible this morning and it fell open to a bookmark of Alicia in the eleventh grade, smiling at the camera.  It was Psalm 20, verse 5 – the verse that I began this blog with. 

I have been praying this verse for my daughter since 2005, the year she handed her package of school pictures, coming with a glossy bookmark.  “I hate this picture,” she said back then.  “I don’t want to buy them.”

I bought the whole package, thinking them to be one of her most beautiful shots.  I saved the bookmark for myself  and placed it in Psalm 20 verse 5 – for 2005.  I prayed this verse for her everyday- that God would fulfill every deep desire in her heart…  especially the one where she knows she is beautiful. 

Because she is, after all, so beautiful.  

And now I have witnessed so many of her victories, including her wedding.  

Crystal Saxon Photography

Click here to see Ranella Photography's Website - Tyler was amazing!

Click here to see Crystal Saxon's Photography facebook page

Kim Ranalla's Art page on facebook

marriage

When I first fell in love with Mario, I believed that our love was so precious and sacred that no one that had lived before us had ever felt such passion and love.    We had both recently been involved in committed relationships that had failed, and we were not exactly relationship experts.  Seeing this, our family counselor suggested we attend a marriage conference. 

We weren’t even married yet. 

So, without even saying our vows we attended our first of many marriage conferences.  We didn’t have time, or the extra money, for a marriage conference.  Still, we were realistic about our chances of staying happy together without some kind of help.  It was obvious that the odds were stacked against us. 

We were parenting young children, who were around us constantly and rightly demanding our attention.  We had schedules and commitments and duties that were counter-romance, almost.  I could see in the distance, the possibility of life happily-ever-after, but the reality of our everyday life was different.  It was busy and stacked with stuff that wasn’t... fun.

 At church, we had friends who made their marriage unions look effortless, the same way that couples figure skaters sail across the ice together at the Olympics.  I wobbled around on my own marriage skates and got sore ankles from trying to keep myself from falling down.

Marriage is work.

It is also the closest thing on earth to heaven, if it’s working.  A few years ago, Dido had a hit song “Thank you”, where she sings about a terrible day she’s having, but it is all made perfect by seeing her beloved’s face when she comes home.  Who doesn’t dream of this?

In truth, a couple’s relationship can take a back seat in marriage many times.  It is replaced by work commitments, responsibility and duty.  Even after a few weeks of this, a healthy couple can feel drained or neglected.  I’ve talked with young mothers who tell me of their over-exposed nerves, raw from a lack of sleep and their breastfeeding schedule.  Later, the kids grow and school and schedules threaten to topple any normal family time, and that’s not including the demands of a normal work week.  

Some couples struggle through years of infertility and would love to have such scheduling problems; instead, a wall of silence goes up between them.  Most couples will be confronted with money problems of some kind that threaten to topple them.  Some survive the inexplicable and searing pain of losing a child, a parent, or a sibling.   

Life is filled with unpredictable tragedy.  By the time you sit down to dinner, you may glance at the one you married, under a cloud of love and roses....and not recognize them. 

In truth, this is why marriage conferences exist in the first place.   They are here for a reason- to take time out for the most important commitment that you have ever made.  You literally schedule time to spend on your relationship, which may help with the things that are challenging you.  Some couples (like us) realize the need for help through difficult issues, but see marriage conferences the same way they see visits to the dentist for oral surgery.  Many conferences open wounds that are too deep to be resolved in one week, let alone one night. 

The Marriage Course, in our opinion, is a good course for any couple.  It begins with a meal for two (we provide the ambience, you provide the conversation), followed by a private evening that focuses on a couple’s life together.  Sex, family and spending are just a sampling of topics.  The exercises are fun and light, but give opportunity for deeper discussion (if the couple wants) later. 

Mario and Janet - 25 years later.

The last time that Mario and did The Marriage Course, we had our first exercise be a runaway disaster.  We couldn’t agree on anything!  Guess what?  We were leading the class.  When the time was up and we had to move on, we confessed to everyone who was there that we “failed” our first assignment.  They laughed, in relief.  It brought an instant bond to the whole class, and we felt like we didn’t have to be “perfect leaders”. 

As a wife, I am more than a business partner or a life-mate to my husband.  I am the bay who he come home to and rests in.   I am the one who sparkles at the very thought of him.  I am his best friend, his dream partner and his girlfriend.    

These are what dreams are made of.

Lennae

I still remember the day that David, our oldest son, met his wife-to-be.  I was upstairs on the phone and Mario was downstairs, and we were listening as he was telling us about a date he had with a pretty young lady named Lennae. 

I was standing up, making the bed and I rolled my eyes.  David, an astrophysicist computer geek, had the brains of a genius, and the worst luck with women.  His last two girlfriends had drug him to hell and back and I was not expecting him to date again until he had recovered.  His story, made me stand straight up and listen.

“We got into the car and I had Blue Oyster Cult, ‘Don’t Fear the Reaper’ on, and she said ‘I don’t know about you, but I could use more cowbell.’”

I held the phone in my numb hand and imagined a movie camera zooming in on my face.  I thought, “Oh, no...he’s going to marry this girl.”

He did.

For those of you that don’t follow Saturday Night live religiously (like the Rodriguez family), Lennae was referring to a “Behind the Music” sketch, where the male cast re-enact the infamous taping of the rock classic, directed by a superstar producer, played by Christopher Walken.   Will Farrell imitates a 70’s stereotype rocker, playing a cowbell through the song, and messing up the taping.  The spoof had Mario and I in stitches.  Later, when we talked about it with the kids, it brought comic relief to tense times.  

Lennae knowing the sketch was one thing, but she said a line that we used to say to each other as a private Rodriguez joke – when something was ridiculous or stupid.  If a cheerleading squad did a “cheer dance with spirit fingers at the end”.  Yeah, that was good, but I could have used a little more cowbell....

Mario went before me to meet her (David and Lennae lived in the Kansas City area) and came home with pages of notes about the visit.  Mario loves taking notes about things.

“She’s been through a lot,” he said.  “Her parents are divorced and she seems like she became an adult very quickly.  She used to dance – swing dance.  But since David doesn’t dance she doesn’t dance anymore.  She loves animals and rescued two that are with them now.”  Here he looked up and smiled.  “You have to hear this story...”

He told me the story that melted my heart for her: Lennae used to live in an apartment building that was pretty small; a downstairs unit that had a door facing another tenant.  The other tenant was a dodgy individual and kept a dog chained up by the front door.  The chain was long enough to reach his food bowl and let him poop in the bushes, but short enough for the dog to have no room at all to live freely.  He was put there, mainly to guard the entrance and was pretty mean and ferocious.  At first Lennae was scared of him, since she had to pass there just to get to her door, but she soon realized that this dog had no play, no company and no love.  She began to give him attention, and when she came home, he would shake with joy in seeing her.  She once asked the owner if she could take him for a walk or play with him, but he denied her, saying the dog didn’t need anything like that.  On the day she moved out of the apartment, Lennae turned in her keys to the manager, unhooked the dog, and took him to her new home.  He was one of the most loved animals in the world there. 

“So,” I said, trying to get a picture of her.  “Is she a Cathy or is she a Janet?”  This question, for Mario was a no-win.  Cathy is Mario’s ex-wife, the mother of David and Joe.  She is a blonde, blue-eyed “girl-next-door” type that is peaceful and loving and soft.  Janet (me) is a raven-haired opinionated, passionate woman filled with fire...and repentance when I have to remove my rather large foot from my even larger mouth.  Which was Lennae?

“She is a...” he thought, lookining up in the air and scratching his chin.  “She’s a Lennae.”

Crap.  Now I had no idea what to expect.

I met her two days before the wedding, where I introduced myself and went into my nervous story-telling thing that I do in order to explain myself.  She had the greenest eyes, like our son, Vince.  It was hard not to be mesmerized by them.  Her skin was a perfect peaches and cream and she was statuesque and lovely.  She also was very affectionate with David, and he with her.  I was a little uncomfortable around the two of them, but smiled at Vince and Alicia about the whole thing. (Another Rodriguez joke? Smiling and plugging your nose around open displays of affection...) 

When you are a “step-mother” at a wedding, things don’t work out as smoothly as you would think they do.  I prepared myself for the awkwardness, but was very honored that David and Lennae asked me to be part of the first row, with Mario and Cathy by my side.  The wedding was gorgeous, and Lennae was dressed in a silk, strapless gown that showed off the loveliest shoulders since Princess Di...and her tattoo on her back. 

The reception was in a stunning Victorian house, and we gave David and Lennae a copper cowbell that was engraved “I got a fever! And the only prescription is more cowbell!”  It was their favorite gift. 

It turns out Lennae was nervous about the day because she loved each and every member of her family, but they did not like each other and had a very hard time being in the same room with one another.  She had just lost her beloved grandmother, a peacemaker and a joy to her heart.  Looking back, I think Lennae was surprised that Cathy and I loved each other the way we did.  It was easy to – Cathy is a Cathy. 

They honeymooned in the wine country of California, where they graciously added us to their stay for two days.  I played a video of David and Joe singing “Kiss the Girl” to the Little Mermaid – as I promised him I would when he was ten years old and woke the whole house up with a slumber party.  Our cool, controlled computer genius hid red-faced, under the kitchen table, humiliated beyond belief as Lennae laughed her head off and held her arms open to him.  The memory is unforgettable. 

We vacationed in Kansas City with them as a family, where all of our techno-savvy kids played x-box together (we didn’t ever allow it in our house, and all of our kids had become pros).  Lennae was pregnant and unable to keep food down, sometimes even water, and I worried about her.  Even though she was in her last trimester, she never had the “morning sickness” pass, and the sickness lasted all day.  I was very worried about her and said so as we left. 

“Don’t worry,” she said.  “David takes good care of me.”  He did.  It was nice to see the marriage working so well, although they said they never fought.  I saw this as a danger sign.  I didn’t know that the word “fight” had the worst connotations for both of them. 

Laila came one day and changed our lives for good.  We were now grandparents.  The pictures that they sent us were of the birthing tub, a method of drug-free birthing that Lennae had chosen to do.  After looking at them, I felt the same awkwardness that I had felt seeing the open displays of affection that David and Lennae had with each other.  She and David were beautiful, almost sensual in the tub as Lennae gave birth to her first child.  Her face was that of a Raphael painting, not the contorted red devil face one usually associates with childbirth.

Laila Willow was perfect, with the same green eyes as her mother.  The first time she called me “Abuela” I thought I would die for joy.  It was like being fourteen and the popular cute boy says “hi” to you and says your name...but better.

Soon after Laila came Lilliana Grace, then Lauren Caroline.  All with the tub, all without pain meds.  I secretly called Lennae “Mother Earth”, mainly because of the way she championed the birthing process and breast feeding. 

Last Christmas she hosted all of us (except Vince, who couldn’t make it) and we all played Quelf and wii and drank Irish car bombs...and laughed our heads off.  We had tender, gorgeous heart-to-hearts and she showed me her pictures of each birth.  And when I got on the plane I cried....

In my mind’s eye, she is surrounded by confetti and children.  I think she is literally one of the most agreeable people I have ever met, and in a strange way, she has taught me to accept people in my life regardless of their beliefs or convictions.  She is, without a doubt, the best person in the world for my step-son – our son- David...and I would have never ever chosen her if it were up to me. 

For that reason, she is a gift and a blessing to me and to us.  Today is her birthday.  Happy Birthday, honey.   You are a delight and joy and everyone’s daughter-in-law should be like you.

Not like Cathy; not like Janet...but a Lennae.  Their own person.  

Because of copyright, it is very hard to find a good copy of the video of the comedy sketch we are talking about in this post. This a crude one from youtbe. Click here to see it.

emergency

Life Fourways in Northern Johannesburg - you can see, very first-world hospital

Like all things that are thrown at us with a curve, the incident yesterday at the hospital tested our faith.  Yesterday’s hospital visit was supposed to be a couple of hours and it turned out to be a whole day.  

Let me begin by saying that we’ve had had a very stressful week.  We got home from a 4-day holiday, where we relaxed like champions, and were thrown into activity, as most people can attest to in their lives.  A friend of ours, whose twin 15-month-olds had been hospitalized for infection, had lost one of them, and was devastated by grief.  Sepsis, a potentially deadly medical condition, in any country, had racked this poor boy’s body.  His last days were characterized by a whole-body inflammatory state, where the blood infection multiplied too fast for the immune system to keep up. 

Lucky, the father, is a precious man with a strong but gentle spirit, and works at the church.  He asked Mario to do the funeral.  In reality, this means walking through the funeral arrangements, making sure the family is well-tended and comforting the grieving mother.  It was a sad situation, and even the other twin, still in the hospital,  seemed to miss his brother. 

On Tuesday, at the funeral, the service, although well-done, was the saddest I have ever been to.  The baby’s mother, Dineo, collapsed collapsed at the graveside, grief-stricken, and unresponsive.   

It was devastating.  She was later taken to hospital, leaving  Lucky torn between one hospital with his baby, and the other with his wife.  We were on our way to training at church when we asked our friends to pray for this family... It later turned out that Dineo was released from the hospital, much better, and that the baby, Obvious, was getting much better as well. 

Lucky’s message to us that night was so encouraging: “Hi Mario and Janet.  Thank you for all your prayers, because Obvious is getting better as you said and DINEO IS OUT OF THE HOSPITAL AND I CAN SAY GOD IS GREAT.” He asked us not to give up on praying.

 That night, at the training at the church, I was happy to be around friends and listen to great teaching, but I yearned for my bed, exhausted from the events of the day.  At the very end of the night, I don’t even remember getting into bed. 

The next morning, Mario kissed me and said good morning, as usual.  Then he said this weird thing:

“Hey, why not grab a cup of coffee and let’s go sit down and chat.”

I did, half in a fog. 

Morning is not the time to chat with me. 

“I didn’t want to tell you last night,” he began, snapping me into wide-awake mode, “but last night at the training I went out to get tea and felt a weird  tightness in my whole upper body."  

He went on to explain how the incident was strange, but not painful, and that he wanted to call the doctor and be seen.  I completely agreed.  The only plans we had that day was to deliver his car to our mechanic, since it was in desperate need of repair. 

Our doctor suggested that he have an EKG at the hospital.  We went in, and since our (basic, bare-bones) insurance only covers hospitalization (all care provided on emergency needs) we went through the emergency room.  

Mario's wait was unusually long, and he decided to go home and come in the very next morning.  There, in the crowded emergency room, I froze.  I turned to the reception desk and said, “He’s about to go home and he was having chest pains last night.  What would you do if he came in on an ambulance having a heart attack?”   

“Well, we’d take him right in,” the man said, as politely as he could.  I started fuming. 

“This is chest pain, and it is very serious!” 

Mario was there, with me, at the counter, saying “Well, it really wasn’t chest pain, but...”  I flashed him a “talk and die” look, which certainly wouldn’t help in a stressful situation.  He led me outside, and talked slowly to me. 

“I am not going to wait four hours without my ipad or my studies.  If you are that concerned, let’s go home and get them.  I think this can wait until the morning, don’t you?” 

My head was cloudy with panic, and my eyes were heavy with tears, but even in that state I knew that there was no chance swaying Mario's mind when it is made up.  We left, dropping the idea of the EKG for that moment.

At home, we faced reality: Mario’s car, long needing an engine tune-up and brake work, needed to be turned in to our local mechanic.  We delivered it.  Later, we went to our small group in its idyllic location of Lanseria, and had a fabulous dinner, then Mario led us in Bible study.  I tried to act like everything was normal, but I was very concerned. 

The very next morning, Mario got up very early and went to the emergency room (without me).  He was first in line, and was given the test immediately.   The EKG was perfectly normal and showed no signs of stress.  

His only concern, while he was there, was that he had arranged a meeting at 9:00 and it didn’t look like al of the testing would be finished by then.  Jake, an American with a very similar heart as ours, was the guy he was supposed to meet with, so he called him and explained the whole situation. 

Jake ended up coming to the hospital for moral support, since he had just been there a few days before (he missed the baby’s funeral because of it) for an inner-ear infection. 

Even though all the tests were normal, there was still more to be done.  Mario called me to tell me the news.  “They’re admitting me, but talk to the doctor!!” 

The doctor got on Mario’s cell phone, explaining the process and the length of the testing that they would do “just to be sure” that there was no stone left unturned, medically speaking, to answer the question of the chest tightness.  She decided to admit him so that he could see a cardiologist and so our insurance would pay for the barrage of tests.  I asked my basic questions, and then decided to try to get a ride to the hospital to be there. 

 I asked for  a lift from a friend across the way, Terry, who explained that he was on his way to work and could give me a lift if I could leave now.  I assured him I could, and hung up.  As I was leaving, our daughter called.  I was rushing to leave, and explained to her that the only reason I couldn’t talk was that I was “rushing to go to the hospital” and I realized I alarmed her.  The more I tried to explain what was going on, the more rushed I sounded, the more stress was in my voice.   I guess there’s no way to tell your daughter on the other end of the world that the heart tests on her dad are just precautionary measures....

 When I got there, Jake and Mario were chatting it up like they were having a party.  As soon as I came in Mario said, "Hey babe!"  like it was any other meeting I was coming in to.   Everyone seemed so calm, and I soon realized, there was no real cause for worry.

They moved him to cardiac care - a sobering ward. Then, the doctor (a Japanese South African), Dr. Yip came in and asked a BUNCH of questions, making me realize two things: 1.  we were here to do these tests as a precaution; and 2. Mario is an extremely low risk for heart disease. 

 He ordered the tests, and we waited.   It was definitely going to be an overnight stay for Mario.  

They soon started a heart test that was scheduled to take 24 hours from start to finish.  It was a "Portable EKG computer" so small, it looked like Alicia's insulin pump.  

  

They shaved parts of his chest and slapped about fifteen adhesive sensors that they attached wires to, leading to the portable unit.  After this came a very daunting shot in the stomach with medicines to relax the heart and the lungs (it made him sleepy).  He slept for a few hours while I studied at his bedside.  

By the time he woke up, they had brought him tea and we chatted a bit, but he was mainly restful and relaxed.  “You know,” he said, “It’s actually a very restful day.”

As things in that room became more and more digestible to my soul,  I decided to beat the traffic home, and drove the car Mario had been driving back to our house, where our dogs were happy to see me.  I had picked up a very generous donation for a few families in Diepsloot, the township where we work, and was trying to arrange on the phone, when I could deliver them. 

It was raining...I missed Mario.  As much as I knew the tests were all routine, I wanted to be with him.  I decided to call him and ask if he wanted me to deliver pudding to him (an excuse) that I had made for him the day before.  

 "You're never gonna believe this!” he said.  “I'm discharged!!"  

Apparently the doctor made a second visit to his bedside, just after I left.  He decided to give him the heavy stress test now and put him on a treadmill to test the heart's reaction.  He brought him up to a level on the treadmill that was two away from very top, and was "satisfied" that Mario was beyond healthy in the heart area....his exact words were "You're the oldest person who I have tested at the level with such success."  

I jumped for joy, selfishly happy that I would have the chance of having him back in our own bed that night.  

“I’ll be right there!!”  I yelled, into the phone.  “I just have to make a drop in Diepsloot, and then I’m coming!” 

I drove to the hospital, after dropping stuff with Portia at her place in Diepsloot.  “Hey,” she said, as she came out to greet me, “I just saw the sms!!  Great news!!”  Apparently Mario had sms’ed everyone that he had been discharged... and this was a reason to celebrate.  Inside of her place, Portia and the goup of ladies she normally meets with on Thursday nights, were whooping and hollering celebration.  It was awesome. 

On my way to pick up Mario, I was overcome with gratitude.   The tests were not just normal, but better than...and I would be receiving my husband home to sleep in his own bed. 

Three months ago I lost my brother-in-law, Mario’s brother.  This week, we buried a baby so small that the coffin could fit on the back of a car.   Life is fragile.  Fragile and fleeting and precious.  Life, with all of its challenges and heartbreaks, is ours to enjoy. 

As I pulled up to the hospital, I saw him standing outside, waiting for me under the cover of the turnaround.  As I drove up, he stuck out his thumb for a ride.  I laughed...and cried.

cribbage

Tonight in a beautifully aromatic evening on our back porch my husband, Mario and I played a game of cribbage.  The board we bought from a local SPCA thrift store, complete with pegs and cards and directions on how to play. 

Turns out that the directions were probably translated from Chinese, and we couldn’t make heads or tails of it, so we had to youtube a video on “How to Play Cribbage”.  We learned right away.

I should say Mario learned right away.

 I am the one in our relationship that has a problem recognizing abstract patterns, so card games are not easy for me.  When I first visited Lake Tahoe with Mario he took me to a Black Jack table (his idea of fun then) after he taught me the basics of how to play.  Since I can’t add numbers quickly in my head, I usually resort to adding with my digits, which I chose to do under the table.  The dealer wryly warned me to keep both of my hands on the table and not to try any tricks.  I thought she meant counting tricks...turned out she meant cheating. 

Anyway, back to cribbage.  I decided about a year ago that I would play a game with my husband that HE would enjoy.  After years of Trivial Pursuit, Scene-It and Scrabble (not to mention sacrificially watching cooking shows) I realized how much he deferred to my preferences. 

In this realization, picking up the cribbage game made me think that I would buck up and learn his game, on his terms – his way.  He walked me through our first games, then let me pick my own hands. 

In cribbage, each player is given two pegs that they place at a starting point on the board – a wooden strip with holes numbering 120 until the finish.  Each player is dealt six cards.  Once the cards have been dealt, each player chooses four cards to retain, then discards the other one or two face-down to form the "crib" which will be used later by the dealer.  At this point, each player's hand and the crib will contain exactly four cards.  The goal of play is to take turns in creating number combinations that will get you to 31. 

As you play you speak aloud the value of your card, then add against the last play.  If Mario laid a 9 down he would say “9” if I were to lay a 5 after that I would say “14”, etc., and we would take turns  without the total going above 31.

A good player gets used to recognizing basic card patterns (pairs, 15’s, runs, etc.) and the longer you play, the more you can see the best order to lay down cards- even if your hand is not so great.  The first player across the finish line wins.  It is a game that you can play while discussing world events, drinking wine, etc.  It isn’t like Othello or Chess...it’s an old bar game.

 

According to gamecolony.com, cribbage is one of the first classic card games.  Originally called Noddy (no kidding) its origin is accredited to a man of quirky description:  an Englishman named  John Suckling   A poet, playwright, traveller, and expert at cards and dice, he was also known as a womanizer and a notorious wit. 

In one of his biographies, he was described as something of a scoundrel with a gambling problem so well known that “... no shopkeeper would trust him for sixpence".  

In 1641, John Suckling was involved in a conspiracy to save a friend who was jailed in the Tower of London.  The plan failed and Sir John had to flee England for the Continent. Unable to return to his country, Suckling ended his life a year later, at the age of 33.

It’s kind of sad, those out of a life lived so “out loud” he took his own in utter despair.  He left behind a game we play to distract us from thinking too hard some 400 years later.  What a contradiction. 

Each time I play I watch Mario light up and recognize pattern after pattern while I am busy trying to add in my head.  It shows how we have different strengths, different preferences. 

This small game was a purchase for about two American dollars and was born out of a desire to show appreciation for my husband ...and the desire to learn something new to show love for a man who does so much for me.  I suspected I would not be good at it, at first, but I love it because it has become a little secret pastime for us. 

Even the small things that you can give to each other to show love is important.  

endurance

"Tomorrow at this time I will be halfway through the last class. I'll try you again later."

Mario's SKYPE text glowed on the page of  the laptop.  Alicia was working her way through pains brought on by the severe discomfort of being 9 months pregnant and days away from delivery.  Our conversation (mine and Mario's) was unexpectedly cut short as I broke away to take care of Harmony (my nearly two-year-old granddaughter) while Alicia tried to breathe through it.

The urgency of helping my daughter overtook the importance of talking to my husband...for awhile.

This led me to text him :"This time tomorrow?" 

His answer is above.  It transported me back to him in my heart.  The class he's talking about is the one we put together ourselves for singles, datings and marrieds called "Relationship Fitness".  The last class he will do without me, leading the group with our beloved friends, Shepherd and Eve. 

Since landing in San Francisco on Wednesday, I feel transported back to a world I had been pining for since the "shake up news" of earlier this year.  The familia in the USA was so much in my heart that at times it was hard to focus on anything else in front of me.  To be faithful to the work that I know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that God has called us to, is important.  Too important to be swayed by the urgent.  That was our decision... and we stuck by it.  While Mario jetted "home" in May, I held firm to make the journey in July to witness the birth of Alannah, Alicia's second child. 

Being here is particularly fulfilling, and my day and a half with my parents was drunk in like a slow, red German wine,as much to be savored as enjoyed.  The connection was instant, and tears gave way to smiles,conversation and deep sharing.  It is their fifty-first year of marriage.  Fifty one years...  and life has delivered, this year, one of their toughest.  I am in open admiration of them, and they know it. 

On Thursday, Alicia turned twenty-three and I drove to Chico to celebrate with her.  The sight of her in person took my breath away: so beautiful, so young, so pregnant!  I couldn't believe how little and how much she had changed in a year.  SKYPE is awesome, but face to face, hugging and touching... no contest. 

It is here that I tell you the most amazing part: Harmony.  Almost two years old now, she glows with excitement and connection and recognizes me from the computer.  She asks after "Papa" (Mario) and proceeds to give me a long litany of indescribable gibberish whose pitch is the cutest thing in the whole wide world.  I am undone all over again... she is a gem. 

There is no such thing as reconnecting with a two year old.  They live day to day and her world doesn't have me in it in a tangible way.  Her confidence in our relationship has been given to her by her parents, who are happy to pass it on.  It is for this reason that Harmony welcomes me into her world.  She is comfortable with me around, opens her heart and her eyes to me, and invites me into her room to sleep the nights here on a twin sized mattress where Alannah's crib will eventually be. 

Alicia's life as a mother has just begun.  Mine is mid-way.  My mothers is beyond mine.  We all love our daughters and are (still) doing the best we can.  I can look at my mother and love her instantly and eternally for being Jennie, the mother who is as strong as she is gentle.  Beautiful and no-nonsense, she is not given to emotional decisions.  She tried hard to impart this to me, but to no avail. What she did place inside of me is the desire to be an excellent wife.  I heard her ONCE bad-mouth my father to me, and that was to say he was stubborn.  All other times were only to praise him: strength, intelligence, etc., etc.. We all used to roll our eyes until we were old enough to understand: she was his head cheerleader. 

Today Alicia and Brian were enjoying a nice Mexican lunch of beans and tacos (maybe this will bring the baby).  We talked about God, love and the unpredictability of life.  As we talked, I inevitably mentioned what a blessing it was to have a life-partner like Mario.   As I said this, Alicia said, "Dad is my hero."

I said, "Mine, too." 

Yesterday, after being here for one day, I called Mario on SKYPE to see the connection from this side to our little office in Johannesburg.  His image appeared , and he was there in his "gangster hoodie" with his cute face. He said hello, and I began to cry, seeing him on the computer screen, suddenly and overwhelmingly missing him.  The whole trip would be so much easier if we were together.  Being separated is like being cut in half.

He watched, at first a little surprised at my emotion,then understanding, then touched.  He looked at me and tried to encourage me with words, my second-place love language, simply because it was impossible to speak my first place one over the miles. Saying goodbye, he got into coach-mode, telling me how to run the game and put my best foot forward.  So Mario.  Almost made me snap out of missing him.  :)

The course we are running at Junction, "Relationship Fitness" is based on physical fitness paralleling our fitness in relationships that we have, specifically our most intimate relationships.  It has four parts: Strength, Balance, Flexibility and Endurance.  Mario will be leading the last class, Endurance, without me there.  It is particularly fitting, illustrating that marriage, with all we want it to be, is sometimes not what we want it to be.  It is fully functional when it endures the earthquakes, floods, and droughts that come with life.  It can only be tested by these events and time... and ours us halfway to where my parents is.

Yesterday, after seeing me break down, Mario asked Alicia a question:  "Isn't it cool that Mom still gets teary when she sees me?"

"No," Alicia smiled.  "It makes me think she'd rather be there than here." 

Her remark made us all smile.  We've all said it; we've all felt it.  Where am I home?  Where am I happy?  Where do I really want to be? 

Here I am, now. Waiting for her second daughter and drinking in time with her first.  It is the tests of time that weather us and give us faith for more.  These tests expose what is beautiful and what is ugly. The tests are not subject to plastic surgery, vitamins or duct tape. 

These tests expose our desires, our values. 

God help us....

preparation

The memory of 2000 is quite clear. I was just about to begin working full-time for the first time in ten years; the world had experienced a threat from hell; the Alaskan pipeline was sending up a white flag; we were stock piling water in large tubs...and I was wondering if we shouldn't get our rack-loading shotgun out of storage. The name that the world gave it was Y-2K...or year two thousand. It was supposed to be the unknown entity that would ruin us all...If we were unprepared.

Because of old-age computers, it was supposed to send the world into a frenzy, causing card readers to not understand our user information; computers that dominated world trade would seize and desist the international markets; major companies and information banks would completely go belly up and squeal shamelessly before completely dying. It had thinking, educated people on the brink of panic.

The only thing that shielded us from panic was preparation.

Because we knew the world to be a sane place after initial panic, all we had to do was build up enough "panic supply" for a couple of weeks. At the most a month. Stockpiling every canned good and water filled thing, we and our friends had garages stuffed to the gills of supplies that betrayed our preparation. It was wise. It was good. In the end, it was completely unneccessary.

When the Y2K didn't erupt in world trauma we all relaxed, and we ate our canned goods, and nothing was wasted. It was a wonderful by-product of preparation. We were happy we were prepared and happy that we didn't need to be.

Preparation is a good thing in moderation. When it all comes down to it, you can't prepare for everything.

Tonight we finished a preparation course with a young professional, cute couple that is going to married in June. They are so sweet...so cute.... I remember being that sweet and cute. I remember looking at Mario knowing he was my validation in this world, and still knowing that my marriage to him was my validation for years of not feeling worthy or likely to find a decent husband.

The couple we met with are perfect for each other and soon will tie the knot after not only years of compatability, but also a course designed to get them to think of every unseen circumstance, like the threat of Y2K. Our friends completed the course with an unlikely wisdom, usually found in sixty year olds. They realize that communicating with each other is tantamount to a successful marriage and still realize that they can't see everything coming at them.

I still see our own beginning. It was romantic and beautiful...clouded with children and child support and shared custody. It showed nothing of the years to come of addiction, sickness, death and lonliness inside of a covenant meant to protect you from all of these. My goodness, how unprepared we were!

Twenty three years later (and for most of you twenty three years is a long time) I see my husband as a Clysdale horse, slowly, methodically trudging through the muck of life and pulling me behind him. I can only be grateful that he decided to stay. I am grateful he still loves me, and I love him. For a love to last this long it can only come with an incredible respect and love that comes from God. I don't have it in me without God; he doesn't have it in him without God. I can only purr now and say I am grateful for what I don't deserve.

Preparation or not, we have endured. After our session tonight we said that we would see them both at the rehearsal dinner. We raised a glass to our young friends and wished the same future for them. The future that is marked only by faithfulness and love...and hope in a God that sees us all through.