My Chris recently told me that he's been processing an idea:  ride the wave.  He's a brilliant man. Just look at the female he chose to be his life partner!  Ever since he shared his new catch phrase with me ... I've been doing some thinking.   Because Google is my friend, and never disappoints,  he (Google) had this to say about riding a wave:

Keep looking forward when you paddle.  If you look back you loose power.

I'm 48.  My Mom died at 48.  For years, an early death haunted me.  So, when health problems raise their ugly head I tend to ... freak.  Thoughts like rain drops fill my minds' buckets and trickle down the sides and land in places that cause me to over-think, under rationalize, and skirt around issues that are just plain false ... but for the temporary moment ... seem real.

I know that this is MY year of life!  As my Moms' life came to a close at 48, God has confirmed to me (in that really deep and quiet place) that 48 is my year of LIFE!  I've embraced this year!  For 8 months I've heard, when those rain drop-like false thoughts trickled into empty buckets in my mind, that this IS my year of LIFE.  And if I should react otherwise, for a moment, my heart quickens, stress rises, eyes widen, and fingers research Google ... and then I am reminded of the truth that now trumps these crazy rides of wild emotion:  This is my year of LIFE.

Deep breaths and a visible smile creep across my face as I remember His truth.  Heart beats normal rhythms, stress lowers, eyes resume normalcy and fingers chill ... and leave Google alone.  It's OK.

That's riding the wave.  

Stress lurks around every corner of your life and mine.  We can't get away from it.  It hovers, it crouches, it lays low, it longs to ambush us behind dark corners, and it waits.  Eventually, it bears its ugly head. When it does ... learning to ride a wave takes a whole lot of power away from the stress.  If you can mentally get on your surf board and just paddle ... and don't look back ... it will go away.

How do you paddle, hypothetically speaking?  When news of a high blood level on a report or a new weird thing my body is doing related to hormones reaches my ears, it's hard not to run with it.  However, paddling means reminding myself what God has told me.  Paddling means filtering everything I hear, read, see, think, imagine through the character of God.  Paddling means to sit on my surf board and ride the wave.

What if I found out today that my child had cancer?  What if I lost my home?  What if I was forced to leave my country?  What if I don't act and something bad happens?  What if I do act and something bad happens?  What if ...  "What ifs" always take us to a place that has not yet happened!  Paddling keeps us centered on the here and now.  Paddling keeps us focused on the present, knowing that whatever comes next, the character of God is good and I will be safe.

The Bible says to trust the Lord with all your heart and He will make straight your path.  Sweet.  Upon second glance, I'm struck that God has to tell me to trust Him with all my heart ... not my head.  Intellectually I know things about God.  Intellectually I know that God is love, He will never leave me, He will work out all things for my good.  However, when stress causes me to want to jump off my surf board and flap around with wild arms in deep water ... it's my heart that needs the attention.  That's hard.  Real hard.

My heart has to trust with eyes that haven't seen the end but knows the One who has the end already scripted.  My heart has to look back in remembrance of every other time I was in a pickle God ALWAYS made a way and it was good.  My heart has to overcome what my head knows ... and keep God's truth before me like a trophy.  My heart has to ride the wave ... until the end.  And after having ridden the wave, my heart is the thing that will be strengthened for having ridden.

God cares for my heart.
God loves for me to ride the wave ... until He makes it still ... both the wave and my heart.
Christina

My Chris and I will be married - this December 28, 2016 - for 25 years.  That sounds like something a parent, a real adult, someone other than me would say!  Yikes!  Yet, here I am.  All grown-up and getting ready to (if I were truly operating in the full gifting of my Oklahoma roots I would say fixin' to) celebrate a milestone with my man.  Wow.

So it's funny, ironic, insightful, and reflection worthy to note that right now he and I are taking a young couple through marital counseling before they tie the knot, break the glass, get hitched, strap on the ball and chain this coming summer.

Now, to me, marriage is the single-most event in my life that has shaped who I have become.  Hairstyles - they've come and gone.  Diets - yep, they came and went.  Friends - come and gone, too.  But, this man, My Chris, this human I said "Yes" to and entered into wedded bliss with ... This man has weathered the storm, huddled under the umbrella, fastened down the hatch, and traveled the most interesting journey alongside me.  I've been an Elledge longer than I was my maiden name (which is Poe ... Which is funny because Po in German means butt ... And so I just have to laugh when I type it).  And - despite what the media says, what Public opinion polls say, what films say, what other married couples say, marriage has only gotten better.  In fact, I love this guy!  I've learned that loving doesn't always mean liking.  I've learned that loving always means sacrifice.  I've learned that loving always means learning.  I've learned that loving will usually always mean change.  I've learned that the worst in me will always be seen.  I've learned the best in me will always be brought out.  I've learned that - together - we are really, really good.

As I walk this brand new journey with the young about-to-be-bride that sits across a cafe table from me, I have to smile on the inside.  She represents me.  She has NO IDEA what she is getting into!  And yet, she will never be the same.  Marriage does that.

When that man of mine and I stood at the alter with mushroom hair and big earrings to the right and mullet hair and big glasses resembling protective eye goggles on the right, we were inviting the God of the universe to stand between us and make this marriage what He wanted it to be.  I can't imagine a better life.  Hard?  Yep.  Safe?  Nope.  Good?  Always.

Marriage:  it's a good thing,
Christina

He's navigated well the stages of Fatherhood.  Seeing each of our girlie's as unique individuals, he has related to each of them in his own unique way.  I love how this girlie's love their Daddy!

 Two peas in a choleric pod are these two!  Wondering how his age would affect his parenting with Libby, this one has kept him on his toes!!  She's got his drive and passion and speaking ability ... not to mention those long legs! 
 Thankful he asked me out back in 1989 ... married me in 1991 ... and have stuck by me after all these years, I treasure this journey we've walked together.

So, my Chris, as you look to the future, look behind you.  You have 4 women who love you, trust you, admire you, treasure you and will follow you.

Happy Birthday!

Chris and I have been seeing a counselor.  It seems that our years spent as ex-pats and our unconventional life have beaten us up a little.  Any good paid road needs tolls paid, and we've paid ours.  Now, as we recover, we need to drive over to the side of the road, breath, and take in the scenery.

I take a deep breath as I type those words "counseling".  Unfortunately, our society still flings untrue adjectives toward subjects of those receiving counseling ... or as I like to refer to it ... couch time.  I, on the other hand, see this as two healthy people trying to deal with a bunch of unhealthy.

"Couch time" has shown me a major truth about myself.  Through the years Anxiety has taught me the value of being weak.  However, what I have not yet learned is the freedom of living without guilt!  When I feel weak, I still feel guilty about being weak.  Unwelcome but familiar thoughts plague my mind:

• If I really loved Jesus I wouldn't be feeling this way.  
• Why can't I just move on?  
• I am not the Mother/Wife I need to be.
• I should be doing more.

As the wind howls through my patio window and I'm forced to move my sanctuary inside my house and not on my beloved back patio, it's apparent that the season is changing.  The heater is set to come on to warm the chill that lingers about in the wee hours of morning.  Girls bundle with layers to combat breezy mornings.

As a woman who has now been married for 22 years in December ... I have discovered a profound principle.  Marriage has it's season's, too!

When we were 23 and 30, the ages we said "I do" ... we had no clue what we had committed to!  "I do" meant late night runs to the grocery store, allowed us to spend lots and lots and lots of time alone - doing nothing and everything together, and it meant that in each other we found all answers to life's questions.  That was a season.

Through all the seasons, I've come to realize that my Chris needs other men.  In the early years, the thought of him needing anything or anyone more than me made tears surface in my baby blues and my knees grow a little weak.  Was I not enough?  Was I not the answer to all of life's woes?  Was cleaving to me not always the answer?  In a word:  no.

Men need men.  I am the helper, partner, comforter, lover, solver of most of life's problems in my Chris' life. He needs me.  He wants me active in his life.  He gets great joy out of me being me.  (I am totally putting words in his mouth, here!  I can't wait to see his face when he reads this.  Hopefully, it will all be true!)  But, to make my Chris a healthy man, he needs other men to speak into his life.

What does that look like?  Coffee with a peer to openly speak about the struggles of being the stronger species.  Working out with a mentor who gives advice on how to remain a pure husband and empowering father.  It has all kinds of faces.  It should.  And, I should allow and welcome the time he spends with another man as an investment in his well-being.

Men will falter when they are left to be Lone Rangers.  Being alone, and being a man, just isn't good.  I speak from the perspective of his counterpart.  Yet, I speak with a certain amount of observation time.  As I observe my own man, he needs others.

Girls ... give your man room to have another man in his life.  If he doesn't, help him find ways to be around other men.  You will do yourself a world of good by setting him on a journey.

Walking through the streets of Vienna last night, on an impromptu dinner date with my Chris, I was struck by the way the city has been transformed. We’ve been here long enough to see and expect certain changes in the climate. It’s always fascinating to see the “mood” change as well.

One of the most endearing things about the city is the transient phases of everyday life. When it’s pumpkin season, every café and Gasthaus serves up its own unique recipe of pumpkin soup, pumpkin schnitzel, and pumpkin ___________. And then, just as quick as the season opens, it closes. The same scenario is created with sekt, asparagus, rhubarb, ice cream, and September wine.

Right now we are seeing a new chapter and a new “mood” change. This is our first spring/summer in our new place. We are nestled right on the edge of the city center. We are only a 2 minutes’ walk from the Donau Kanal were we are privy to summer stage performances, outdoor cafes, night life full of bars, clubs and outdoor volleyball courts that are open into the wee hours of the night. After our long walk out and about last night, let me tell you … it’s a jungle out there! But, I love it!

After an adventurous diner of falafel and babaganash (my new favorite word), Chris and I just walked through the city where tourists are still in awe of the architecture and ambience that we now call “home”. As we promenaded through the masses of people, we got a kick out of the men dressed up in Mozart costumes trying to sell the unsuspecting tourist concert tickets. We chuckled (not in a condescending way but in a “that’s so typical” and “isn’t that so cute” way) at the Asian tourists posing by every statue making peace signs. We shook our heads at the young girls bopping about in 6 inch heels and shorts. How do they do that?


As we passed stores that sell shoes more expensive than the total of all my monthly bills combined, I brought up the topic of having plenty. I sometimes feel tension about all the plenty that surrounds us. As a follower of Jesus, I read that true religion comes from helping the poor, the orphans and widows. There are very few poor in these streets and orphans and widows are hidden. I don’t have an answer for that.

Anyway, we heard singing on the Graben (a walkway that strolls through the inner city that is unapproachable by cars). This has become a familiar voice to us. We first heard this voice one Christmas. We were drawn by the depth and volume … thinking the voice was amplified only to find out it came from a sole woman, blind, and singing the most glorious opera from her heart. Holding a plastic bucket to receive coins from those passing by, we were pulled into her space by … the voice. Chris went up to her and thanked her for sharing her gift, left a business card and a few euro.

This past Christmas, as we walked the Graben, we heard the voice again. This time, Chris was eager to find out more about the person who possessed such a gift. Armed with more German and a greater interest, he proceeded to find out that she and her husband both sing. They come to Vienna from Bratislava to “work the seasons” and earn extra money. Again, Chris affirmed her gift and shared his faith in a Creator God with this beautiful woman possessing such a wonderful voice.

So last night as we heard the singing, we instantly recognized it and followed her melody until we found her. As she sang, she held her plastic bucket in one hand and her cane to help her navigate the streets in the other. Again, we were drawn in.

We decided to just take a seat on a bench and listen … and pray. At the closing on her song, Chris approached her with another business card and more euros. We wanted to bless her. As Chris entered into conversation with her, he found out that she and her husband both studied Opera. They come to Vienna during peak tourist season to work the streets. Her husband has performed on several stages and she has a website displaying her talent. A year and a half ago, they lost a 17 year old daughter to a childhood heart disorder. In her words, they have their music, each other, and the knowledge that their beloved daughter is in a better place.

Chris once again shared his faith … and the hope he has that he will see loved ones again in a place called heaven. That’s a promise that comes through an authentic faith in Jesus Christ. She concurred his believe, saying that God is all she has … I hope that to be true and have no reason to believe it is not.

We walked away from our encounter speechless … and grateful that our “troubles” are just light and momentary afflictions in comparison to what our new friend, the voice … Alexandra has experienced.

Just moments later, making our way in silence through the mass of people, we pass a young man sitting on the sidewalk. He is unkempt, has a face full of hair, and locks that are tied back in a pony tail. He keeps a firm stare on the pavement and a tight grip on a paper cup that longs to be filled with coins. We pass him.

I feel that lightening in my spirit that tells me I am being called to action. I am somewhat hesitant because of his looks, but he is such a young man … barely 20. I grab a coin and march back toward him. As I drop my coin in the paper cup, I tell him that I am giving him this in the name of Jesus. Then, feeling in my head that I simply want to walk away, I know in my heart that Jesus is telling me to sit next to him and ask him if I can pray for him. This is when he looks up from the cold stare with eyes fixed to the ground. He looks at me and I see someone’s son … he is not much older than my Addy. He pauses for a minute, and when I ask him again if I can pray for him he nods yes. Feeling overcome with emotion, all I can pray is that he will know how very much Jesus loves him. My prayer was short. Afterwards, I feel the need to touch his dirty face. I do, and he grabs my hand in such a tender way I shed tears. I get up, walk away, and return to Chris.

God is so gracious. In the middle of much, he showed us the poor, the orphans … those who needed to see Jesus. However, perhaps the most powerful thing was that he used us. I believe in my spirit that when God chooses to act, it is always about obedience above our own logic. Why do we always think those orphans and poor are lacking. More and more I realize it is I … in my plenty … that is often more lacking. What I lack in compassion and ability to see past the reality of appearances, God see’s the total picture. When I choose to elevate myself above the one on the street, it is I who am poor. Who, last night, was the one in need?

Today, my Chris is taking precious Parker out for lunch. Parker doesn’t know this yet. At lunch, when she is preparing to make her way down to the basement cafeteria and dig into her humdrum lunch she brought from home, she will get a nice surprise. Her Daddy will be waiting for her. Her Daddy will be taking her to a little Kiosk down the street from school that sells her favorite, Kebab sandwiches. It’s unexpected. This morning as I was sipping my coffee, eating my oats and yogurt, and reading from the Bible, I was wondering what God looks like. Weird, I know. The Bible says that no one has seen the face of God. But, sometimes my imagination gets the best of me and I just want to know what God looks like. I’m kind of at a cross-road. I’m kinda at a place that I don’t know what to do next. And, since my schedule has been freed up by Libby’s new school hours, I’m putting this pressure on myself to perform. Do something. Get busy. Produce. That feeling doesn’t set well. It stresses me out. It robs me of stillness. It makes me feel guilty. If I know anything at all, I do know that those feelings do not align themselves with what I know God to be like. He doesn’t author stress or rob me of stillness nor does he throw quilt trips my way. When I sit quietly in my living room, in my big blue chair, and I wrap my cold hands around my hot mug of strong Austrian coffee, I am at rest. It’s not so much the living room, big blue chair or coffee (although … coffee does make everything better!). It’s more of whose company I am in. When I am still, when I open the Bible, and when I open my heart to whatever it is that the Creator of the Universe wants to share with me from His guidebook … I am quiet and still and focused. This morning I have no answers. I don’t know what is next. I don’t know what to put into my freed up schedule. But, as I finished reading some really good things … my thoughts took me back to my precious Parker … and her surprise lunch date with her Daddy. Then, after a really big smile came to my face, I had an answer. It was unexpected. This picture of my Chris surprising precious Parker … just because … to encourage her … is what God looks like. He (God) does not determine what He does for me based on the things I can do. He (God) loves me because I am his daughter. That, today, is what God looks like to me.

I’m back in the saddle! B2 Test has been taken. Laundry is done. New school has become routine. So what’s a girl to do?

Write! A girl is to write!!

As I’ve finally found the time to do what makes my heart happiest, I contemplated what to write about. The one topic that swims to the surface each time is the overwhelmingly wonderful surprise that my Chris planned for me … our trip to Scotland.


Over 13 years or so ago, my Chris and I looked at the possibility of taking a job in Scotland. At that point, it was just part of a vast foreign country that had no significance for me … other than the strange tradition of men wearing skirts. However, as we began to research the culture, climate, and other social mysteries, Scotland became a place that lodged somewhere in a nice spot in my heart. The job didn’t work out. Life moved forward. Scotland made an impression.




In December, my Chris and I officially celebrated our 20th wedding anniversary. Since we knew we would be knee deep in moving boxes and packing paper, we decided to forgo a trip at that time and plan one later in the year.

My Chris made all the plans (Ok … little side note here. He made all the plans with a little help from our naturally organized first-born daughter holding his hand along the way!) and kept the location of the trip a total surprise. All I had to do was pack a suitcase and board a plane.



Upon check-in the Vienna Airport, the attendant asked him where we were traveling. Chris said we were flying to Frankfurt, Germany … which was true … but that was only the first leg of the trip. When she said there was some mistake and she had that this flight was a continuing flight to … I quickly stepped away from the counter, stuck my fingers in my ears, and hummed silently to myself! He’d gone too far to have his surprise blown at the last minute!



When we got to Frankfurt, we had to go through passport control which got my antenna’s up. I have to admit, I am a smarty pants. I can usually figure out “the plan”. I had thought he made arrangements for us to go to Rome … or to London. So, when we left the E.U. I knew Rome was not our destination. Again, being little Miss Smarty Pants, I noticed that the terminal we were headed for listed only destinations going to the U.K. thus, in my mind, making it clear we were headed for London. As we entered our gate, and it was time for the big “reveal” … I looked up at the monitor … only to get the surprise of my life … Edinburgh!


I can’t tell you what a wonderful time we had. I know … I know … that sounds so … predictable. However, our trip was such a time of relaxation, insight, comfort, surprises, hope, rest, joy, unpredictability, laughter, sadness, ease. I believe that God allowed us to be in a time bubble for those days away. Most of the experience has been locked in a secret place in my heart ... a place I can’t put words to ... a place lost in a beautiful haze of memory.



What I walk away from is that marriage is … weird. How can a union of two very different (yet cute) people share 20 years together, share so many life experiences … some that took our breath away and some that left us gasping for air … come out … better than when they started this journey?

What I’ve come to see is that marriage is so much like my relationship with God. I entered into both relationships feeling warm and cozy and had butterflies in my tummy every time I heard the name of my beloved.

Somewhere those feelings subsided and a deep, comfortable, resolve took its place. There is a deep appreciation for the one I love. There are moments that still surprise me. There are moments that cause me to look at my love with new eyes. There are moments that I feel I’ve never truly seen my love. There are moments when it seems that I have never known a moment without the presence of my love. Weird.

Supernatural experiences happen. It’s not natural to remain attached to and in love with someone for this length of time without the binding component of a third party. In this case, my marriage is a result of an agreement based between my Chris and I … totally and uniquely dependent on a Heavenly Father to center us, guide us, and love us. Is marriage possible without the third party? Yes. Can magic happen without a third party? I think so. Can it be a spiritual experience … indescribable and binding without a third party? I don’t think so.

I am no expert on marraige. All I know is that while I was in Scotland with my Chris … something supernatural happened. This 43 year old person felt just as pretty and thin and young and hopeful as the day I said “I do” over 20 years ago … with one difference. The difference was I know what 20 years of living does to a person … and to a marriage … and to pretty ... and to thin ... and to young ... and to hope … and still I would say “I do”. Trust me; it's not because I'm so great ... or my Chris is so wonderful ... but because in our human imperfections, we have a Father ... our third party ... that does all things well.

This particular Sunday afternoon finds me in a Fraulein Maria sort of frame of mind ... so let me share some of my favorite things in my corner of the world!


This pic of me was taken one day while Chris, Parker and I took a little day date and we stopped into my my new favorite place, Campus Suites Cafe, a quaint cafe near the U.N. that serves very cheap coffee and gives me huge dose of the outdoors during winter. The entire back of the cafe is glass ... makes my heart so happy!


Yep. My Chris. No words needed here. He's just one of my favorite humans on this planet!


This is my favorite nook in my flat. Often I read a new recipe here or find Parker listening to music here or see Libby putting on her shoes to go outside here.


OK ... these are several of my favorite things in one picture. First, my espresso maker. It has become a "need" in my life. One can not make a proper coffee without an espresso maker! Second, pink lady apples ... yummo! Third, nothing says I live in europe like a fresh kornspitz banquette! Finally, my coffee cup that my Chris bought for me as a just because gift!


This little gadget is my milk stirer thingy ... another favorite! I don't know the technical name, but this is what I use to make my milk foamy and yummy and just right to pour into my espresso. It's battery operated and if one drinks coffee with a little milk foam ... one NEEDS this little gadget!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4AX-2dzgTUE



This link is one of my new favorite artists, Audrey Assad. And, this quirky song is just a toe-tapping happy dance kind of song. I like to think of my Chris ... and God ... and it makes me smile.


And ... this is my favorite view that I gaze out while being inspired to write. It is here that I've spent many long hours reading, writing, dreaming, crying ... just veggin' and getting filled up and poured out!

I have a friend named Jackie. Jackie is a walking resource center. You need something on ADHD, she’s got it. You need to know the metric equivalent of a ½ ounce, she’s got it. You need to know how to buy a juicer, she’s got it. You need to know where to buy a Russian Bible in a German speaking country, she’s got it. You need directions … don’t ask!

Recently during an impromptu coffee date, she mentioned the title of a book she had just finished reading, Love and Respect by Dr. Emerson Eggerichs. I tucked the information into the constant open file that is my brain and went on my way. I thought of it more for other people than for me … (such a martyr) … but then kept thinking about the book.

Fast forward to another coffee date with another friend, Carrie. Catching up on all things from kids to recipes, she mentioned something God was doing in her heart concerning her marriage. Her words resonated deep in my heart. In fact, God used her words to stick so deep into my heart … to the point that before we said goodbye, I asked her if she would keep me accountable to order the book Jackie mentioned … and another one she suggested.

Now, I am a book gal. I love reading. As a kid, I should have done more running about than reading … but books were a great escape. I love to read all kinds of books. However, I am not one that hangs her hat on every new book that comes down the literary pike. I know that lots of great people write great things! However, not every great writer has a great new principle to follow for everyone that reads it! Sometimes, it’s just a revelation that was to be imparted to that person for that time to alter their behavior or give insight to a new way of doing things … for them. It’s not meant to be a stamped copy for others to follow as “rule” and implement in their own lives.

Let me case a rabbit here. Because of the line of work my husband is in, he gets lots of new information on the latest ways of reaching people. Many, many, many of them are great resources and help a brain catch a vision for trying something new. Kudos to those kinds of things! However, just because it is in print, and just because everyone is doing it, doesn’t mean it’s something I need to do/try/worship in my life. If I am not hearing from and reading the words of my Father on a daily basis … then trying to add a human author’s guidebook for my life is a little sort sighted on my part. I’ve got to daily be investing in the relationship that matters and then add other things that He allows and desires into my life as wisdom to influence and help grow what He is already doing. Enough said. Off my soap box.

I came straight home from my coffee date with Carrie, told Chris about the books I felt God wanted me to read and ordered them straight away.

I’m reading Love and Respect. On the back of the book there is a statement that says:

A Simple Message
A wife has one driving need – to feel loved. When that need is met, she is happy. A husband has one driving need – to feel respected. When that need is met, he is happy. When either of these needs isn’t met, things get crazy.

I’ve been reading this book saying things like, “Oh that’s good!” I’ve been underlining things I want to repeat to others. I’ve been making mental notes of things I’ve seen others do and why their marriages suffer.

Then, last night, I get to put into practice the basic biblical principle this book is talking about. Wives, respect your husbands.

I’ve been sick. Now, Addison is sick. Chris lines up a doctor’s appointment for both of us. The office is in our neighborhood, a mere 5 minute walk from our place.

I am a direction girl. I have a good head on my shoulders when it comes to directions and can find my way around very well. My Chris ... generally ... isn’t. That’s why we are a good match! Knowing this about my Chris, I ask him before we leave the house if I should Google map the directions to make sure we know the way. Nope. He’s got it.

After a 5 minute walk in our neighborhood, we find no doctor’s office. After standing on the corner of an intersection, waiting for Chris to ask someone for directions, we find no doctors office. It’s cold. I’m sick. Addison is sick. “This is why I suggested I look at the directions before we left the house,” I say in a self-righteous knower of my way around tone of voice.

There. I did it. I inserted a dagger into my Chris’ Respect. He didn’t need my little sassy comment. I felt so justified in saying it. I felt it needed to be said. I wanted to say it so he would know I was right. I wanted to remind him who has the better sense of direction. Fact is … he knew all of that before I opened my mouth. It didn’t need to be said.

I could feel the impact of my hateful words the minute they tripped of my tongue. Instead of being a jerk, instead of engaging in my immature banter, he simply replied with … “I’m trying really hard here.” Ouch.

Fact is, for the last 6 days, he has been father, mother, cook, taxi, book reader, homework helper, medicine giver, all the while trying to maintain his daily work schedule. I didn’t take time to consider these facts … I just knew from my selfish point of view that he wasn’t finding the doctor’s office and I was “suffering”. That’s mature!

After trying one more office, we began the treck back to our place in hopes to start all over in finding the doctor’s office, which we successfully did just … 5 minutes in the other direction. During the treck home, my Chris walked beside me, grabbed my hand, and said he was sorry. He was sorry! It was I who needed to be sorry!


I love this man. After 20 years of marriage, I’m getting this sense that the years before this day have all been rehearsal. Now, it’s the real thing. Now it’s time to really make the days count. I’ve done what I’ve done to make this good, but now good is not enough. I want to make this … sacred. I want to be a respectful wife … to meet the needs of my husband … but to allow others to get a glimpse of glory in our marriage! God does things like that … use the humble and weak to show the glory of a real God.

So now, over the blogger network … and in front of God and everyone … I am making a statement to relearn Respect. I’ll keep you posted. Perhaps if you want the truest picture of how I’m doing … ask my Chris.

Last week, the gift was SIMPLICITY. Having had no time to gather as Elledges, we gathered! The gift was a day of baking Christmas cookies, eating a fun lunch together, watching Polar Express, celebrating Advent and drinking hot cocoa. Simple.

The biggest surprise of the day was my Chris being a creative genius! Who knew! I got to be honest. I’m the creative one … he’s all the other things. Yet, we caught him kneading the cookie dough and cutting out the shapes with such passion … we nearly flipped our Elledge girl lids. Then, if that wasn’t enough, he took such painstaking detail with his gingerbread man you would have thought him to be Michael Angelo painting his fancy roof! But, don’t take my word for it … take a gander at these photos! We just love this man!




This week, the gift was ENTHUSIAM. Before we left the house, Chris pointed out to the girls something he had read the previous day. Paul is writing and telling about the enthusiasm of Timothy … the real joy and enthusiasm he had to share the good news of the truth of Jesus Christ. He pointed out that enthusiasm isn’t a fake joy we try to muster up but rather a deep and deliberate choice to choose to be enthusiastic about the gift we have living inside of us. More on that later …

We presented the girls with an “instruction manual” that led them every step of the way to our final destination … a Weihnachts Dorf (Christmas Village).



As we arrived, they read the last instruction on the manual, the opening of an envelope that contained 10 euro for them to “enthusiastically” spend on the dinner of their choice. Should I tell you that Libby ate potato wedges, a coke and cotton candy for her dinner?

Actually, there we plenty of gifts bestowed on us that we were quite “enthusiastic” about: Addison getting to collect her first Weihnachts (Christmas) mug of the season,


Chris discovering live music,



Parker tasting her first Langos of the winter (Langos is a fried bread dripped with garlic butter …),



me tasting my first Krapfen pretzel … and the weather was unusually warm (38)!



Enthusiasm is something I could use a lot more of … truly. I’ve been reading through the events that led up to the birth of Jesus. I do this every year, trusting that God has something new and fresh for me to hang my hat on during the Christmas season. This year, I’m struck by Mary’s enthusiasm. What did she have to be enthusiastic about? Poor girl … pregnant and not married, misunderstood, almost abandoned by her soon to be hubby … yet … enthusiastic. Wow. Not only “wow” … but why?

Look at her response: “Oh how my soul praises the Lord! For the mighty One is holy and he has done great things for me.” Yes, she says so much more, but these sentences sum up her heart attitude: enthusiasm. It wasn’t based on her circumstances … it was based on a promise!



I’m gonna try to be more enthusiastic … and the only way that is gonna happen is by a deliberate choice to focus on the promises of God … and not my circumstances. Circumstances will always lie … circumstances will always bring me to doubt … circumstances will always steal my joy … and …enthusiasm! Not any more … this girls gonna make a choice … to be … enthusiastic! Enthusiasm defined: it isn’t a fake joy we try to muster up but rather a deep and deliberate choice to choose to be enthusiastic about the gift we have living inside of us.

What does a hair meltdown really mean? If you are a girl, you know what I am talking about! Why is it that a bad hair day can send me in an emotional spiral that ends with me drowning in my sorrows, desiring nothing more than to devour a whole dark chocolate candy bar?

And, what is it with women and our need for security: emotional, financial, relational, and with the spaces we call our homes? I consider myself a person of foundational girth, who doesn’t bend by bad news or cry at the thought of giving up something I call mine. Yet, upon finding out that our flat is pretty much sold and we will be moving … I’m shaken.

This same emotional being that I find myself to be can also be the strictest of disciplinarians. This week I had to “lay down the law” with one of my precious offspring. As she sat on my bed wiping back tears of disappointment in herself, I continued to banter on and on about the importance of pulling herself together. She didn’t need that … or did she? No emotions were spilling out of my fountain … nope, not me. I was the strong voice of hard disciple. Really?

Then, in the same week, I have a breakfast date with my man. We had a great morning “catching up” on life, calendar, plans, and kids. I was giddy and light. I always feel pretty and thin and young when I’m on a date with my Chris. (In fact, it’s my goal to have one every other day to keep my self-esteem in check!) Remember, this was the same girl who had an emotional breakdown over hair, got set upside down by a house, laid down the law, and now … am a giggly, sappy woman in love. Wow!

I’m a mess most days. This morning … (and let’s take a little road trip here … while I tell you that I am totally loving our September! The weather is pretty much perfect! The temps are cool in the morning, warming up just enough to take your sweater off, and then cool down again in the evening. Every day we have sun. Every day I feel happy. In fact, if I was a betting woman, I’d say we’ve had more sun in September than the entire summer combined! Now … back to our original story. Thanks for taking this little trip with me!) … I’m reading in Genesis. Abraham, Jacob, Isaac … you know these guys of whom I speak. All real pillars of the bible, people you can put on your top 1o to look up to. Guess what … they were messes too!

The more I walk with God … and hear His voice above the clang of all others … I’m reminded that life is more about the contrasts and pitfalls of our own selves … and learning that God can use those, change those, redesign those things as He chooses … to make something beautiful out of … a mess.

Psalm 1 says that God watches over the path of the godly. He said godly … not perfect. Godly doesn’t mean we’ve mastered life. Godly means we we’ve mastered our pride … knowing we are a mess on our own … but a masterpiece with and in and through God.

Messy … yet a masterpiece,
Christina

Yep. My Chris had two extra girls to put up with ... I mean, to have the pleasure of being around this past week.

Prince among Men

Man of the Year

Man for all Seasons

a man having the Patience of Job

... any title you would like to bestow upon my Chris would fit. He put up with 4 Elledge females, plus the addition of two Bader girls, one bathroom and lots of hormones!

Bader girls, Sydney and Cecily, arrived on Wednesday evening. Having met them over 14 years ago, when they were respectively 2 and 4, at 15 and 17 they have changed a bit from our first introduction. They are taller, can tie their shoes, laugh at my jokes, clean and dress themselves and many other tasks befitting their age. In a word, they are simply lovely.

I wrote their mamma, Sheila, an email professing my deep and new found affection for these young women of hers. As I confessed my admiration, I kept thinking that it "seemed just like yesterday" these young women were being put in time out and being taught to share their toys. Now, one crosses that border into adulthood by heading to college, far away from her home in the state of Washington into God's country, OU. A new chapter, a new adult chapter, in her life is getting ready to unfold. The other begins her Junior year in high school as President of the Student Body, leading others to be young, responsible leaders for the future. "Where did the time go" ... I say, scratching my head.

Chasing time is like chasing the wind. You see it, you feel it, and you just can’t catch it. Profound, hugh?

All the while I'm reflecting over these young women and their place in the world, I'm reading through Ezekiel right now. If you are prone to bouts of depression, don't read Ezekiel. It's not pretty. However, Ezekiel is being sent to rebellious Israel as a messenger: get it together or pay the consequences. It seems a lot of his message is pointed to the religious, the "good", those in charge. Quit playing games, quit giving your heart to idols, turn your whole heart to God ... the great I AM. He doesn't mince words.

Just doing a bit of reflecting about my role as one on the way out someday ... and what I have to leave the next generation like these sweet Bader girls. I fear my generation may be guilty of those Ezekiel came to scold. Church is not a place you go to on Sunday, it's the body of Christ ... that should be lived out on a daily basis expressing the hope and life and love of Jesus. What I give myself to wholeheartedly will be revealed by my actions. What I believe in my heart will be expressed in my attitude toward others, toward God.

Still reading ... still learning ... and still giggling over our pictures from the Bader girls. Life is sweet.

Christina

Eons ago … truly eons ago … Chris and I found ourselves teaching Proverbs 3:5-6 to a motley group of students sitting in a converted double-wide trailer which was being used as the Sunday school room for the youth group at Southpark Baptist Church. I know, it sounds like a low-budget movie scene, but alas it’s true. As we sang “and He will make straight your path”, little did we know how true the words would ring almost 20 years of marriage, 3 kids and another country later.

We have no radio in our van. We do have a radio in our hall closet, that has sat in the box in which it came in, almost 2 years ago, that hasn’t been installed. No radio for this music loving bunch of Elledge’s means singing in the car.

This past Friday, as I was escorting the queen (a.k.a. Libby) to school in our nonraido equipped van, we sang. We have quite the repertoire of songs … even have tossed about the idea of a mother and daughter CD. One of our favorites is the above mentioned diddy, Proverbs 3:5-6. We have a little harmony, a little repetition of the chorus … it’s quite nice if I do say so myself. The queen is 7 years old. She has been singing this song for at least … 7 years (she came out of the womb singing – she’s that gifted and I’m not exaggerating!) As she was wrapping up with a big finish, I noticed her singing … “and He will make STRANGE your path.” If you check your local Bible, the verse actually says, “and He will make STRAIGHT your path.”

That morning while eating breakfast, or perhaps the morning before, Parker the precious, Libby the queen and I read a Psalm that said something about God making our paths straight. We talked about what that meant … to them. So, being the ever mature one in the bunch, I took the opportunity to make a life message come alive right then and there in the van with Libby’s misquote of scripture. Wrong. I just laughed out loud. Perhaps not a very strong confidence builder for the queen but I couldn’t help myself.

“Libber’s … do you know what that song really says? It says … He will make STRAIGHT your path … not STRANGE your path.” She laughed, I laughed … life went on.

When I returned to my Chris at home, I told him the story. Out of his ever profound mind came the following … “She’s not so off is she?”

Let that sink in … He will make STRANGE your path.

Following God leads you down some strange paths. I won’t lie. Sometimes I’ve wondered if He had some strange cosmic joke he was playing and I was the pawn he was using to communicate the punch line. Sometimes I’ve wondered if He forgot the path He set my feet on … and the road map to go along with it. Sometimes I’ve thought it was too good to be true and I wasn’t a worthy recipient of the gifts along the path. Sometimes the pain was too tangible, I had to stop on the path to let out a battle cry.

And then, I smell the coffee on the breath of my Savior friend (my Jesus drinks coffee) saying:

Trust me – with all your heart – and lean not on your own understanding.
In all your ways – acknowledge me – and I will make STRAIGHT your STRANGE path.

Skating
Monday I finally got to see Libby skate. Her class goes every Monday, with only two more Monday’s to go. Last year, poor baby, she could hardly stand on the ice much less put one foot in front of the other in an attempt to skate. This year, the child zoomed past me, at one point on only one leg!

This week Parker finished her skating season. Every Tuesday her class went downtown to the Rathaus for skating. Chris went along this time as a parent helper. He didn’t skate, but he tied plenty of ice skates, drank hot punch, teased Parker endlessly in front of her friends and managed to help all the kids get safely back to school. Good job!


Laundry
This is how we do laundry. We have a washing machine and we do have a dryer … that doesn’t work. Actually, even if it did work, it uses so much energy and makes the house so hot and humid that being dryer less isn’t that much of a hardship. I’m not a mechanical minded person, so what I’m about to say will be laughable to the technical minded among us. Whatever kind of dryer we have (and it’s not common for anyone here to have a dryer) it sucks out the water from the clothes and keeps it in a container. You have to dump out the water periodically for it to continue to work properly. Anyway … enough technical talk – it’s hurting my brain. The point in all of this was to show you how we do laundry. Now, go and hug your dryers and thank the good Lord above you have one!

Chris, the Quicker-picker-upper
Today the Elledge girls have kept our Chris on the go. This is not especially noteworthy, but it’s funny. It’s also evidence why we call our Chris “Mr. Clean”.

So, this morning I’m walking up the stairs with my Bible in one hand and a perfect cup of coffee in the other. Instead of completing my task, I trip. My Bible goes flying, the cup of coffee soaking the steps, my Bible, my sweater, my hair, my face … even the back of my shirt. I hit my knee so hard (yep, the same knee I fell on when I fell down the steps while trying to text) I began crying. Chris rushes to see what all the commotion is all about … picks me and my coffee dripped stuff up and cleans down the steps and wall for me.

Then, we get a call from Parker’s school. She is sick and needs to come home. Chris goes to get her. On the way home, she needs to … um … (ok, there is no other word to say this) … puke. So, being the quick thinker he is, he grabs her backpack and has her … puke … into the backpack. He bring precious into the house and then goes upstairs to clean the puke filled backpack. What a guy! And, to constantly prove my point that all men have a bit of 7th grader in them, proceeds to tell me how many “chunks” he saw float down the drain!

And that, friends, is more of the same as last week ... more or less. Hope yours is filled with less spills and puke …

When last I typed, the holiday “magic” was still among us: wrapped gifts under the tree, secrets being kept, last minute plans being made. Now, gifts are unwrapped, secrets let out of the bag and plans followed through. Now how’s that for a cheerful perspective?

Actually, despite my melancholy words, I am looking forward to what the New Year holds. This time of year always forces me to reflect on the old and strain to see the new. That’s a good thing.

Right now I’m reading a book that is finding its way into my head and heart in a fresh way. The title: Your God is Too Safe. The author: Mark Buchannan. If you dare, read it. Recently I’ve taking to reading things the Holy Spirit leads me to … finding there is a deeper purpose. I’m certain the purpose of this book, alongside the scriptures it is leading me to deeper investigate, spur me into seeing God as the Beaver’s from The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe saw the famed Aslan. “He’s not safe, but He’s good.”

So, good and bad, whatever comes into my life (due to my own poor choices or by God’s divine hand) I want to approach 2011 with that same perspective. When my dryer breaks and remains broken, I say … this is not some trick from an uncaring God … this will serve a purpose because my God is good. When my girls have problems with friends, I say … this is not a cruel and unkind God trying to punish them … this is allowed from a good God who loves them more than I. If I hear of a diagnosis for a loved one … or myself I say, this is not the result of something I have to pay for … this is the result of a good God showing me His loving-kindness when I need it most.

So, if you dare … read the book.

On another note ...
My Chris and I have been married 19 years. We celebrated … alone … for 2 days. Over all the years that have passed between us, it’s weird to see him not as I married him, but as I’ve grown older with him. My heart has not counted the lost hairs, jobs or faith in people. Instead, my heart has paid attention to the tears over hurt, prayers over me, uncertainty over life. My heart has grown over his courage in the face of fear, his loyalty over leaving and his humbleness when he could have chosen pride. Because I see him reading his Bible while eating breakfast, or see him kneeling by our bed when there is no one else upstairs, or hear him praying in the girls ears while they lay in their beds asleep … I love him. Because he fold clothes just to help me, tells me he’s sorry when I know I’m more at fault, and tells me I look beautiful when I feel like a grape … I love him. It’s the everyday stuff that goes routinely unnoticed yet somehow stands out when you reflect. It’s the everyday stuff that stacks up in your favor at the end of the day. It’s the everyday stuff that makes me glad I am the bride of my Chris.

In closing, read the book if you dare … and love others well.

That’s me. I’ve been a not-so-merry widow since last Sunday. Chris left early Sunday morning for a conference in Germany, arrived home Thursday night, only to leave again Friday afternoon and won’t be back until tonight.

I think I am an independent woman. Not in a super feminist kind of way, just in a self-sufficient yet biblically submissive kind of way. However, whatever image I’ve had of myself has been somewhat altered by Chris’ absence.

I’ve learned that I am scardie cat. At night, I grab my little glass of water, my computer, and head upstairs for my bedtime rituals. Chris, on the other hand, checks all doors, turns off lights, and locks the front door before he heads upstairs. These are things I do not think of … they are just not on my radar.

I’ve learned I am somewhat pampered. I enjoy cooking. I cook, make a mess, clean it up, but then never, NEVER take the trash to our Mullraum (that’s our little room in the other building adjacent to ours that it takes a key to get into, you have to separate your trash, and it stinks.) Chris always does this.

Finally, I’ve learned I don’t sleep well when Chris is not in the house. When he is here I sleep like a baby, most nights. I don’t worry that a bad guy might come in and pillage our flat. I don’t worry if that little sound was something catching on fire. I just sleep.

All the above to say, I LOVE MY CHRIS! I love that he makes me feel secure, take the trash out, and if a bad guy did come in … he could take him! He’s my hero! Honey, come home!!!

As I stated in the latest post, this past week our family enjoyed a lovely time in Germany for an annual meeting with our company. We arrived last Saturday, August 1 to the scenic mountain views of Bavaria. Among other things, this area is well known for cheese. So treasured is this cheese that their cows wear bells while grazing on the mountain slopes. Apparently farmers need to know where these treasure chests roam and thus the tinkling bells serve as the farmers radar. In addition to the great views, it was so good to reconnect with fellow as well as new colleagues that work all over western Europe. The speakers were riveting and inspiring. The girls were treated to a team of volunteers from the U.S. that had all sorts of activities planned for them during the week. A good time was had by all.

Monday evening, during a session, I noticed Chris' breathing was heavy. I thought it was just because I was sitting unusually close to him leaving him breathless but alas, this was not the case. He dismissed himself from the session. When it was over, he told me he felt weird and needed help. I grabbed a nurse practitioner, she took his blood pressure and after getting a reading of 200/100 she sent someone after a doc from the states who had come to this meeting to volunteer his time. Turns out this doc just happens to be an E.R. doc who suggested we send Chris to the nearest E.R. Accompanied by a nurse and nurse practitioner, we headed to the ER in Immestad, Germany.

Wednesday afternoon, accompanied by 3 colleagues, I went to retrieve Chris from his stay in the hospital. After 2 EKG's, heart monitors, sonograms and a battery of blood tests, we feel certain it's Chris' blood pressure.

Was this scary? Yep. Trying to tell 3 little girls that Mom needs to take their Dad to a hospital because his heart is hurting is scary. Leaving them with some colleagues and traveling to a German hospital in a town 30 minutes away was scary. Not knowing anything other than symptoms and not being able to stay with Chris in the hospital was scary. However, instantly I heard God telling me ... "I have not given you a spirit of fear but of a sound mind." God was bigger than my fear.

Was this weird for Chris? Yep. Not knowing the condition of these weird heart things, he was unable to sleep the first night in Intermediate Care for fear of not waking up. That was weird. Not being able to speak the language well to the care givers that were treating him was weird. Trying to wrap his brain around the reality of the situation he found himself was weird. However, God was very real and intentional with Chris. God kept reminding him of Psalm 23 ... and the words "He makes me lie down in green pastures" kept running through his head. Chris could give you more detail about the specifics of how God met him. However, suffice it to say that God in all wisdom and mercy took a situation that was scary and weird and turned into a situation that He could use for His glory. God gave Chris the opportunity to share his faith with 3 roommates (4 to a room in Germany) as well as connect with an intern. God doesn't waste anything!

I want to share a side note here worth mentioning. One of the speakers shared Psalm 23 on the first day of our meeting. It was to be his topic for every day we met. When Chris was in the hospital, God kept using this verse to minister to him. In fact, the second day Chris was roaming the halls. They had just told him we wouldn't be going home and he needed to clear his thoughts. He noticed something on a bulletin board, written in German. It was Psalm 23. He wrote it down for his roomy and was able to share God's word with him. Addison then told us, today, that God used Psalm 23 to speak to her heart about her Daddy. Wednesday morning she was directed to read Psalm 23 and prayed that for her Daddy. God's word is sufficient and meets our needs. If God spoke those gorgeous mountains that the cows and their bells roamed around on in Bavaria into creation, I'm thinking God wants us to know that His words are powerful!

Chris, despite a new prescription for blood pressure, walked out of the hospital hearing God in a fresh way. Control is God's job, not ours. Release is the result when we surrender. And peace is what we experience when alone and scared when we turn to God.

So, now we start a few days of R and R ... back home in Austria. Don't know if we'll go on any mountain hikes, but perhaps watching movies and eating healthy snacks may be on our agenda. It doesn't matter. We're together and God has once again proven faithful and everything else is just extra.

Until next week ...
Christina