He was a keeper!

So, to follow up with yesterday's post... yes, my sweet husband wrote that song for me when he was living in California.  The waves heard at the end of the recording are the actual sounds from the beach at Santa Monica.  He recorded the song on a cd and had it mailed to me at work.  I was working as a music teacher at the time. So at the end of a particularly hectic day, I found a box sitting outside my classroom door.  Inside it held two small beautiful glass bottles-- one filled with water, the other with sand.  There was a handwritten note, asking me to sit down and listen to the disc.  And then for the first time I heard the "silent waves."  That happened on Tuesday afternoon, February 8, 2005.  And the rest of that week is sweet history.

Silent Waves

Because so many of you enjoyed my Valentine's post, I thought I'd share another gem of mine... 


Just another Tuesday morning without the sunlight to greet her opening eyes

She obeys the routine of a predictable day, knowing Truth will carry her if she tries

The day continues on the road to work... turn left, change lanes, park here, walk there

Two thousand miles is what she sees approaching that stack of papers in her chair.

So she remembers her dream of a distant place where the land gently caresses the sea

Although the waves crash and majestically break, they fold before her now silently.

All day the sand slips through the glass, an eternity for each grain that falls

She dreads the treading of the stagnant water that awaits her in the halls

Forcing herself to endure the rhythm of the distant beating of her heart

All that carries her now is a silent thought that has awaited her from the start

So she remembers her dream of the silent waves where the sun no longer hides

And although it is quiet as she sits on the shore, she can feel the waves inside

There is only one thing in a never-ending day that can pull her through the gloom and the haze

A belief in hope of the beautiful scene where soon she'll hear the waves.

P.S.  Alec will DIE when he finds out I posted this... Will explain later. ; )  

A New Journey in 40 Days

This past Wednesday, I decided to dig into an area of religion that I normally shy away from.  I’ve heard people use the word “Lent” my entire life.  Most of them were Catholic, Methodist or something similar.  I never really knew what they were talking about and honestly never thought too much about it.  I just knew that my traditional Southern Baptist roots didn’t include this ritual.

Then for some reason, it hit me differently this year.  I wanted to know about it.  What it is, why it’s celebrated, and what the purpose is behind it.

In a nutshell, this is what my mind has gleaned:

Factually, Lent is a 40-day period before Easter, beginning on Ash Wednesday and ending on the day before Easter Sunday.  In case you've never noticed, the number forty was a big deal in the Bible.  Whether it was 40 days, weeks, or years, it was always a necessary season of struggle, unrest, wandering, and growth before something amazing occurred.  I relate this closely with both pregnancies with my children... Forty weeks of sickness, aches, fatigue, and struggle; yet, something miraculous was created and birthed from those incredibly tough months.

Symbolically, Lent is more than just a time of fasting and discipline.  It’s a season of reflecting, searching, and repenting.  We spiritually imitate Jesus’ withdrawal into the wilderness for forty days, and use the same tactics modeled by Him-- prayer and fasting.

So what does Lent look like for me?

Even though, as far as I know, the Bible doesn’t mention anything specific about the custom of Lent, it does speak of fasting, mourning, repentance, and the like. I have committed to observing this season, identifying myself with Christ in His wilderness journey.  I need these 40 days to wrestle, learn, dig, grow... and especially to refocus on my relationship with my Savior.

It’s my fourth day into this journey, and I’m already thankful I chose to walk this path.  My specific fast from desserts and sugary treats/drinks is proving to be a much-needed challenge.  I look forward to what will be birthed through this forty-day season of retreating and reflecting.

What does Lent look like for you?  Do you celebrate this custom?  Why or why not?

On a Day Like Today

 It's been a trying "winter" for our family.  

Yet, our chins are up and our hearts are strong.  

Winter has a purpose and we don't want to miss it.  

On a day like today, even though the temperature is 
still cold and the wind is brisk, we bundle up.  

We head outside to feel the warm sunshine on our faces.  

 I then think to myself, "Be patient... spring is coming."

  

  

  

  

 

For everything there is a season,

a time for every activity under heaven.

A time to be born and a time to die.

A time to plant and a time to harvest.

A time to kill and a time to heal.

A time to tear down and a time to build up.

A time to cry and a time to laugh.

A time to grieve and a time to dance.

A time to scatter stones and a time to gather stones.

A time to embrace and a time to turn away.

A time to search and a time to quit searching.

A time to keep and a time to throw away.

A time to tear and a time to mend.

A time to be quiet and a time to speak.

A time to love and a time to hate.

A time for war and a time for peace.

Ecclesiastes 3:1-8 NLT

Five years ago today...

On December 29, 2004, my darling husband and I met for the very first time.  We were working on staff that post-Christmas week for a Terra Nova Student Conference in Nashville.  You could pretty much say it was a "he'd never like me/she'd never give me the time of day" love at first sight.  The two of us were smitten almost instantly.  Yet, there was a tiny complication to the relationship that was quickly evolving... Even though born and raised in Music City, Alec was pursuing a film career in Los Angeles, California, at that time.  He flew back to LA less than a week after we met.

Even though there were thousands of miles between us, Alec and I continued to pursue our relationship daily via phone and email.  We didn't know if/when we'd see each other again...

Then, low and behold, a dear family at my church came up to me one Sunday night that January and offered me access to any and all of their frequent flyer miles.  Yep.  That meant I could fly to California any time I wanted.  OMG!

My first trip was booked and a few short weeks later, I was on a jet plane headed to the City of Angels.

Needless to say, the trip was more wonderful than I could have ever imagined... I had found the man of my dreams and nothing could keep us apart ever again!  Oh wait... except for that whole we-live-and-work-a-whole-country-apart thing.  Hmmm. 

So, the weekend finally ended and on February 13th, with giant alligator tears running- no, GUSHING- down my face, I got back on a plane to fly home to Nashville.  My Mr. Right was staying in California and I would spend another Valentine's Day sulking alone.  To make matters worse, my 2 hour layover in Denver turned into a 24 hour camp out in the airport terminal. For a 26 year old single girl, I had arrived at my pinnacle of hell.  Woe, woe, woe was me.

When I finally arrived at my Nashville apartment on Valentine’s morning, there was a delivery guy standing at my door with a large bouquet of gorgeous roses.  I could feel the corners of my mouth stretching out into a big, goofy grin.  I grabbed the vase and went inside to call Alec.  But as I was standing there admiring the flowers, I began to count each rose.  One, two, three, four........ nine, ten and eleven.....  Eleven?  Seriously?  Tell me this guy isn’t too cheap to pay for a full dozen roses on Valentine’s Day!!  GEEZ!

At this point, I hadn’t even bothered to read the small card that was attached from the sender.  Finally I took it off and began to read.  There wasn’t a name anywhere... just a riddle.  It instructed me to be dressed and ready at 4:00 pm sharp, because a limo would be picking me up for a hunt to find the twelfth rose. 

That night, I journeyed all over Nashville hunting for the missing flower.  The hunt took me to several familiar places that were significant in our first few days together:

Carrabba’s in Green Hills

Wildhorse Saloon on 2nd Ave

 and a Starbucks kiosk in Opry Mills Mall. 

At each stop, my instructions were to find an employee and say, “Hey, I’m Carmen!”  And they knew every time what to do.  They’d hand me another piece of paper on which was written the next clue of the hunt.

The final destination of my quest took me to the beautiful Gaylord Opryland Hotel.

The message card from the Starbucks barista had a map drawn on it, letting me know the location of the last rose.  My job at that point was simply to hunt it down.  Although a little bit confused, I followed the map as best I could down the halls of the hotel (it’s a BIG place).  The route eventually took me into the Garden Conservatory, to this little gorgeous nook:

There, at the rocks of the waterfall, was not only Rose #12, but holding it was my Mr. Right.  (Insert loud round of the Hallelujah Chorus here.) It was the best Valentine's Day a girl could ever ask for.  

Today, five years and two children later, he's still the man of my dreams.  Happy Valentine's Day to my dear husband and best friend, Alec.