My first memory of Bob was from fifth grade. I was going to Sunday school class with my cousin and she confided in me that she "liked" a boy, but if I ever told anyone she would never share a secret with me ever again. I promised I wouldn't, of course. When we got to the class, she discretely pointed Bob out and I told her I thought he looked like the Blue Eagle from Sesame Street--he had a really low hairline and thick black eye brows.

Several years later I decided he was the best looking guy on the planet. He became friends with my brother. If I had any inkling he might be stopping by, I’d race up to my room and make myself look as pretty as possible.

I’d sit in the same room with them until my brother would turn and ask, “Don’t you have anything better to do than sit there and stare at us?”

I was mortified, but he was right--.I was just sitting there and staring. I’ve always had a staring problem. But a lot of girls had a hard time not staring at Bob.

For some reason I'll never understand, a few short years later, he professed his love to me. Me! A staring, immature, insecure little monster.

  

I think we jumped into marriage before either of us was ready. I wasn't involved in any of the planning for the big day (other than my dress). I wasn't even aware of which songs were going to be sung. Looking back, it's hard to fathom, but it's true.

It wasn't until the night of the rehearsal that I recognized a song from Fiddler on the Roof. Eeek! I hated that movie, but the lyrics were oh-so appropriate. 

                                        Is this the little girl I carried?
                                        Is this the little boy at play?

                                       When did she get to be a beauty?
                                       When did he grow to be so tall?

                                      Wasn't it yesterday when they were small?
                                      I don't remember getting older, when did they?

The fact is, if I would have gotten a peek into some of the difficult days ahead of us, I probably would have bailed (and saved my parents a lot of shekels).

How fortunate God doesn't let us see into the future. Because if I had bailed I would have missed out on experiencing the miraculous ways God would heal our marriage, making us stronger and more dependent on Him than ever.

From the very beginning of my pregnancy, we knew Brett wasn’t “right.” Bob pleaded with me to follow the doctor's advice and terminate the pregnancy, but God intervened in a miraculous way and convinced Bob we were meant to have him. 

Now Bob views Brett as a gift from God, with a special purpose. He considers him the "glue" that held us together. He has never complained or resented the fact we will be tending to Brett's every need for the rest of our lives.

Today, I marvel at the selfless, loving man I married. I don’t doubt his devotion to me anymore. Though life isn’t always easy, he does everything he can to make my life as easy as possible

And, truth be told, since the day he told me he loved me, I’ve never been able to envision my life without him.

If only I’d been born just one decade later I could have experienced the incredible technology of having (at my finger tips!!) not only a camera but also a way to take a video of each and every entertaining moment in Caitlin and Dane’s lives. I’d give almost anything to be able to sit and watch those unscripted, random scenes of hilarity and sweetness.

When Caitlin and Dane were little, the only way we had of recording anything was with a contraption not much smaller than those that television news crews lug around today. There was a lot in involved in putting it together—certainly not conducive to catching any spontaneous fun times.

I was totally incompetent with the thing. I never held it steady enough and I constantly forgot to push the "stop recording" button and thus we have literally hours of film of the pavement at Disney World. 

But one particular Christmas I was thankful for my ineptness, for forgetting to push the "stop recording" button…because it’s given me a lifetime of laughter...

All the presents had been opened and the clean-up had begun. No one had any idea the camcorder (that I’d carelessly placed on a chair) was still recording.

Only seven year old Caitlin is in “the shoot.” She’s kicking through the carnage of wrapping paper, tissue and boxes. She finally stops her search and, with a big, dramatic sigh, announces (to no one in particular), “Nope. No 'Free Willy.'”

We howled with laughter when we watched the inadvertent recording of Caitlin kicking her way through dozens of presents in search for the one thing she’d asked for but didn’t get.

The phrase became a standard joke between me and my mom. Heaven forbid I replied, “Nope,” to any question, because neither of us could help but follow it up with, “No 'Free Willy.'” 

I can relate to my seven year old Caitlin this year. In the face of all God has given me and in the wake of one of the most exciting years of my life (my first grandchild is due to arrive any moment), I’ve been kicking through the gifts, only focusing on the one gift that’s missing…the wondrous gift of my mother’s constant love and laughter. 

I’ve been convicted of the need to sit and savor the greatest gift of all…Jesus. Prince of peace, Lord of Lords! Love has come, hope is born! What an indescribable gift it is to know that nothing in all creation can surpass the glorious gift of His Son.

Wishing you all a very Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!

(I stumbled upon this blog, written almost exactly three years before my mom left us for her Heavenly Home.)


I've been so inspired by my mom's selfless love--how she has risen above her own considerable grief to offer comfort and encouragement.

Her hard earned wisdom has guided me through many difficult days. When I'm experiencing especially down days, I tend to avoid people (except poor Bob, of course). Because really, who wants to be around a downer? But my mom is always able to get to the nitty-gritty of my sadness and literally set me back on track to right thinking. Thinking that takes the focus off of myself and on to all I have to be grateful for and the importance of living in the present. Life is short, carpe diem!

Sadly, not only am I not as selfless as she is, I don't laugh as easily either. But she thinks I'm funny and her laugh is contagious, so consequently, we've spent my entire life laughing together. I talk to her pretty much every day and every day we find something to laugh about.

When I was in high school she asked me to trim the back of her hair. She's always been one to save money by cutting her own hair. I took the scissors and began snipping. I cut it unevenly and after numerous attempts to get it even, it ended up much shorter than she wanted. Which made her mad. Which hurt my feelings.

I asked her what had made her think I knew how to cut hair in the first place? She said I certainly didn't hesitate to grab the scissors and tear into it like I knew what I was doing. In moments, the anger and hurt turned into uproarious laughter. I don't think I would have been laughing had she done that hatchet job on me...but that's the difference between the two of us.

The other day, I was telling her about a girl I met who named all five of her children after U.S. presidents. There was Kennedy, Reagan, Madison, Jackson and...? I couldn't think of the last one. She offered up several suggestions, trying to jog my memory.

"No, no...I know it was a conservative president."

"Hmmm..." my mom hesitated a minute. "Was it Bush?"

Of course, we erupted into laughter at the cruel absurdity of naming a child "Bush."

I can't imagine a life that doesn't include my mom and her daily doses of wisdom and laughter.  She is my biggest fan and my dearest friend, and I love her with all my heart.

I just returned from a wonderful visit to see my brother and his family in Charlotte, NC.

While I was there I was able to reconnect with Robin and Ellie, my best friends from college. It had been 25 years since I’d seen Robin, but Ellie and I have kept in touch.

Ellie’s husband Johan, was recently a victim of downsizing. He was elated because it freed him to pursue his own dreams. Ellie went kicking and screaming. She went from living a life of leisure in Connecticut to learning how to drive a fork lift for Johan’s bourgeoning business in Charlotte.

While leaving Costco, something blew off Ellie’s cart and a kind woman ran to retrieve it. And who might that kind woman be? Robin. Definitely a God thing! They were meant to be reunited.

Ellie insisted on picking me up from the airport because it would give us more time to visit.

I told her about my recent trip to Santiago with Dane. She knows I’m a ditz and always appreciates my stories.

When I was checking out of our hotel, the man at the desk asked me, “Habla Ingles?”

“No habla Ingles.” I stupidly answer. Of course I know what he’s asking. It’s just me being ditzy. 

Looking rather incredulous, he asks me again. 

“No habla Ingles.” I repeat a little more firmly.

“Habla Espanol?” 

“No habla Espanol.”

At this point, he’s not sure where to go and finally asks, “Americano?”

Bingo.

The second night I’m in Charlotte, we all meet for dinner and we talk about some of my most embarrassing moments. 

Like the time I went to class with a big curler in my hair. All the second glances I was getting served to puff up my ego a bit. 

Like the time I hit the dirt when a giant leaf came dive-bombing towards my head. I watched “The Birds” when I was five years old and have been terrified of them ever since. The shadow of that leaf looked exactly like a big bird.

Most embarrassing of all was the time I got caught eating Robin’s food. Robin is 5’7” and weighed 98 pounds. I am 5’8” and weighed 150 pounds.

Robin always had snacks in our room. Since I was forever trying to lose a few, I never had snacks, but it didn't keep me from sneakily munching on hers. 

One day I came into our room and found Robin peering into what she thought was a toy surprise from her cereal box, possibly a little magnifying glass. 

She had accused me earlier of eating her "Donkey Kong" cereal, which I'd flatly denied. 

When I walked in and saw her with her “toy,” I was thrilled she’d found the missing glass piece from my watch. 

Busted. 

Not only had I been snacking on her cereal but I had pawed through it so much that the face of my watch had come off in the box. How gross, how mortifying. 

Thankfully, my beloved sister-in-law, Shannon, appreciates my stories just as much as my college friends. I can’t express how thankful I am that my job allows me to fly in for a quick visit and laugh with such abandon, because laughter really is the best medicine.