Today is our 25th Wedding Anniversary. It doesn't seem possible. I have spent more of my life being married than not being married...wow.

I recently read about a play in which a girl was allowed to choose one day of her life to relive.
It got me pondering which day I would choose. I asked Bob which day he would choose. He doesn't like questions like this. They make him skittish. I think he thinks I have a "right" answer in mind and if he comes up with the "wrong" one, all hell will break loose. I persevered and he finally came up with a day he thought he would like to relive. He chose our wedding day. That happened to be the wrong answer. It was not a good day, it was filled with tension and Fiddler on the Roof music (and I hated Fiddler on the Roof). Sadly, being the spineless little people pleaser that I was, I let everyone else decide almost every detail of my big day. My sweet Aunt Janet came up with some ideas for songs and after she read me some oh- so appropriate lyrics, I went with the ones she suggested. I was horrified when they started belting out "Sunrise, Sunset" at the rehearsal. Why didn't someone tell me the songs were from Fiddler on the Roof??? Well, it was a little too late to change anything by then.

Bob said he only chose that day because he wanted to go back and change everything so that it would be a wonderful memory for me. I told him that part of the "rules" were that you couldn't change anything, you had to relive it just as it was, so he needed to come up with another day. He wouldn't. I put a great deal of thought into which day I would choose for myself. I told him I would like to relive the day he first told me he loved me. It was one of the happiest days of my life. Truly. I could hardly believe that Bob Staples loved me, of all the girls that had a thing for him (and there were many), he loved me! It was very intoxicating. It probably wasn't such a stellar day for him. His avowal of love was met with total silence on my part. Finally, I just embarrassingly buried my face in his neck. I was such a goof. Months and months later I finally mustered up the courage to tell him I loved him, too (even though I'd been hopelessly in love with him for almost as long as I could remember).

If I had gotten a peek on my wedding day into all that was going to transpire in the next 25 years I probably would have done an about face and marched right back out of the church (or rather pranced out accompanied by that silly Fiddler on the Roof music). How fortunate that God doesn't let us see into the future. Because if I had walked out I would have missed out on experiencing the miraculous ways He has healed our marriage, making us stronger and more dependant on Him than ever. I would have missed out on seeing how tenderly, totally and selflessly Bob has loved all of us. I would have missed out on seeing the special love Bob has for Brett and how he has never viewed him as anything but a gift from God, with a special purpose. He considers Brett the "glue" that has bonded us together. Bob has never complained or resented the fact that we will be tending to Brett's every need for the rest of our lives...this in spite of the fact that we get absolutely nothing back from him...not even so much as a smile.

Since those first early days of dating Bob, I haven't been able to envision a life with out him, I still can't. Like the words of that old Barry White song, he is "my first, my last...my everything". Happy Anniversary, Babe!

When Dane was three years old I ordered him a Batman costume from a catalogue. As soon as I opened it I realized that something had gone terribly awry in the assembly of the mask. It was so tall  you could have fit two heads in it. One of the ears was straight up while the other one was almost stitched flat.

Dane didn't recognize the strangeness of it and could hardly wait to don the whole get-up and pretend he was Batman. I wanted to throw myself on the floor laughing after I put the mask on him, but somehow, I managed to keep a straight face.

Dane raced around the house, cape flying behind him, fighting off his imaginary foes, and generally just having a rollicking good time....until he caught a gander of himself in the hall mirror. I could tell by how still he suddenly got that he was stunned. I could see his little eyes looking through the mask taking in the whole ridiculously freakish picture he made. It most certainly was not Batman. And the Batman game was definitely over. I realized it was actually a good thing that he got a glimpse of himself in the mirror because it would have been infinitely worse to let him get laughed at. Let's face it, if his own mother could hardly keep a straight face, he wasn't going to fare well with the general public.

Our Brett has hydrocephalus and when he was born his head was already way bigger than it should have been. As the days progressed it just kept getting bigger and bigger, until finally it was imperative that he undergo brain surgery to have a shunt put in. Because his head was so abnormal looking (and still is to some extent), I became fascinated with the variety of heads out there. For one, I had gotten so used to Brett's large head that every normal infant I saw looked like a pin-head.

I'm still fascinated with all the various sizes and shapes of heads. There are tiny headed (of which I happen to have one), flat headed, huge headed, pointy headed and lumpy headed, all out and about and doing just fine, thank you.

Bob and I both realize what a blessing it is that Brett is blissfully unaware that he doesn't look or act normal. We are very thankful that we never have to worry about his feelings getting hurt, because let's face it, nothing hurts quite so much as seeing your child get hurt. Especially the emotional hurts.

Most of the time, physical hurts heal and the pain is temporary, but being mocked and rejected often leaves life-long scars. We can't kiss away these "boo-boo's" or put band aids on them.

We can't protect our kids from the inevitable sorrows of life, but we can trust in the One who loves them more perfectly than we can. Jesus told us we would have troubles, but He didn't stop there, He said, "but take heart! I have overcome the world!" (John 16:33) Someday "He will wipe every tear from their eyes, and there will be no more death or sorrow or crying or pain," (Rev. 21:4), until then we have been promised that "He who is in us is greater than he who is in the world" (1 John 4:4) and that we can be "more than conquerors through Him who loves us" (Rom. 8:37). Everything that takes place God uses to take us to the place He wants us to be. He doesn't waste any experiences (Rom. 8:28), not the broken hearts, the crushed spirits or even guilt and shame.

I was given the opportunity to finally see Caitlin's beautiful little apartment and the school where she teaches. I'm always in awe of Caitlin. Always. How did she go from pretending to teach school to actually having real live students? Of course they love her... who wouldn't? I can tell she's a wonderful teacher and that she loves those kids with everything she has.

What a treat it was to attend their morning meeting, to hear God's word shared and marvel how much wisdom has soaked into those little minds. Even the littlest ones had answers that reflected real Bible knowledge. Wow.

Of course I got to spend time with my sister and her boys, too. I can never get enough of them. She had a bunch of her friends over for brunch. Five two-year olds and one three-year old were part of the entourage and Kristie had hired a babysitter to keep them occupied in her basement.

I was more tired than usual, not feeling up to socializing with people I don't know (isn't that terrible?). She needn't have hired the babysitter because I decided I'd like nothing more than to hang out with the kids. Perhaps because Brett is blind and doesn't really do anything, but I'm more fascinated than ever by children and their distinctly different personalities and interests. They are all so unique, so funny and adorable.

My little nephew Sam is one of the most beautiful little boys I've ever seen. His big brown eyes, perfectly chunky body and big wide smile would melt anybody. I can hardly keep myself from stroking his pudgy cheeks and kissing his sweet neck. Of course, you can only get away with so much of that before they start avoiding you like the plague. Sam seemed rather bored with the other boys and didn't interact much with them, just played contentedly with his cars.

The other boys dug in the toy box until they found things that could be used as weapons. There were numerous bouts but surprisingly no one got seriously hurt. The two little girls dug desperately in the toy box for something that would interest them and, lo and behold, one of them unearthed a baby doll. She was thrilled with her find and gently cradled her in her arms. Alas, there wasn't one for the other little girl and she eventually settled for pulling a little chair up close to watch and admire the "baby."

I marveled at how God made us so innately different...so evident in these precious little ones. I thoroughly enjoyed quietly observing and occasionally laughing out loud at their antics. I was almost sorry to see them all leave but looked forward to spending the last few hours with my sister before I had to head back home. Time with my sister is always wonderful, she's not only an insightful and fascinating conversationalist, but she laughs all the time...and it's delightfully contagious.

What made my little excursion to D.C. possible was that my friend Dawn offered to come and stay with Brett for me. She not only watched him, she cooked us up a fine dinner and even baked us a cake! I prayed specifically that Brett would be his usual content self and that she wouldn't have to change a messy diaper. Sadly, God didn't grant me either of those requests (the only disappointment in my near perfect day). I asked God to especially bless her because she is a busy, busy gal and yet she carved out these hours just for me. Dawn, I am so thankful for our friendship!

Our driveway has become somewhat of a demolition derby. For some odd reason, all of us, at some time or another, have backed out of our driveway (at breakneck speed), forgotten that we had visitors, and blasted into their cars. My mom's car has taken the most hits (since she's our most frequent visitor, the odds are stacked against her).

I have to say I was almost glad when Bob eventually joined our team of demolitionists. Once on our way to church, he speedily backed up and slammed into my mom's car. There's nothing quite as disheartening as a few seconds of inattention causing hundreds of dollars of damage. I really hated for him to have to endure that all too familiar sick feeling but at least it allowed him to experience some empathy for the rest of us (which was severely lacking before).

Some months ago, my friend's son, Blake had spent the night and I had to leave for work before anyone else was up. I was running late (how uncharacteristic!) and came flying out of our garage and only noticed Blake's car as I whizzed by it, missing it by mere millimeters. It scared me so bad I couldn't help but cry out, "Oh, thank you Lord!" It was a miracle, there's no other way to explain it. I never peel out of the garage hugging that side of the driveway (a flattened bush on the other side of the driveway attests to this). What a potentially hideous morning God saved me from!

The overwhelming gratitude that started my morning affected my entire day. It gave me a new appreciation of the enormous benefits of a grateful spirit. When we're deliberately and specifically thanking God we can't help but feel connected to Him. I felt like I was offering up whispers of thanksgiving all day long. As I stepped on the employee bus, I noticed a pitiful girl sitting across from me that had a very, very small amount of hair, and I whispered up a thanks for my own hair. Thinking back, a loving, thoughtful Christian would have asked God to give her an adequate amount, yet I didn't offer up a single syllable of prayer for that poor girl (which just goes to show you what a self-centered little piece of work I really am).

What a gift it is to have eyes that see God's hand working in us, around us and for us! My friend Tammy has always had a unique gift to see God's hand in every situation. Thankfully, it has been a contagious gift, because I know I have grown in my own awareness of His Presence through her. It's taken almost thirty years, but finally some of her habitual gratitude is rubbing off on me! May we all learn to "be joyful always, to pray continually and to give thanks in all circumstances." (Col. 3:15)

By the way, if you do pay us a visit, you might want to park in the street.

Bob and I just returned from an incredible five days in Marco Island Florida. We stayed at a breathtakingly beautiful beachfront resort. The employees referred to it as "Paradise" and I felt like I was in paradise, enjoying the bright sunshine and gorgeous sunsets. Each morning I woke up thinking that there really can't be too many places in the whole world as beautiful as this. Even the nights were like day because the moon reflected so brightly off the white sand. As picture perfect as the surroundings were, and I did try to soak up every detail, it was the people we met that were the most beautiful and made the greatest impact...an eternal impact.

In early 2008, a close friend of Caitlin's introduced her to some of the people that are responsible for putting on the National Prayer Breakfast. She was fascinated with their vision and desired to be a part of it. She applied for a nine month internship that would begin the following fall and was blessed to be one of only four girls in the nation to get one.

In November of 2008 we were invited out to Washington D.C. for a parent weekend to spend some time with the people who were mentoring our children. Caitlin had shared that many of the people involved in the group held high government positions, rubbed shoulders with world leaders, owned companies, were sitting judges and lawyers. I felt a little intimidated. What could a flight attendant and a car salesman possibly contribute to that group? More than likely they'd think we're a couple of nitwits. How wrong I was! I have never felt such genuine love from essential strangers in my entire life....and oh, how they love Caitlin! They genuinely cared about us and wanted to hear every detail about our life with Brett and how God has worked and continues to work in our lives.

Their desire is to be Jesus to people and their tangible love and joy has attracted many rich and influential people to join in their effort to reach every corner of the globe. It thrilled us to know that Caitlin was being discipled by these people.

That weekend had an enormous impact on my thinking, prodding me to reach out to people like they do. It is too easy for me to stay in my familiar little world, not caring to open up to strangers, accept help or even meet new people. When Peggy and Michael Gooch (parents of one of the interns) invited us to attend the Willow Bank Memorial Gathering in Florida, I didn't have a clue what it was but I thought we should try and go... I wanted be around those people again!

With a special needs child that requires 24/7 care, just picking up and flying off somewhere is no longer an option. As God would have it, a friend with a special needs child of her own had recently taken advantage of a charity organization called Children are Precious (childrenareprecious.net) that provides respite care for parents or caregivers of special needs children. I felt overwhelmingly grateful for such an organization. It seemed almost too good to be true that these precious people, having experienced the need themselves, began an organization to provide a break for people like us. All they ask in return is that at some point we might share our testimony at a fundraiser. The news got even better when we discovered they would hire a nurse we knew, someone who we knew would love on Brett and take extra special care of him. What peace of mind! God is good. Though every detail seemed to be falling into place, Bob was still wary about spending the money, feeling it wasn't something we could afford at the time. I was convinced we should make every attempt to go. It wasn't like we were buying stuff...we would be spending money on something that would have eternal benefits!

From the minute we walked into our little meeting room, we felt inexplicably loved and embraced by these people. We know that each connection we made was divinely orchestrated by God to touch us in some way. We were divided into small groups. Merle and Mary Ann were our small group facilitators and we were joined by Patrick and Leslie. On the second day Mary Ann insisted on treating me to a massage. I'd never gotten one, and I spent the 50 glorious minutes thanking God for the opportunity to be there and for Mary Ann's generous heart.

There was a reason God had us in the group that He did. Because we shared a common bond in Jesus, we weren't afraid to be vulnerable and we shared from our hearts. The theme for the week was growth...are we growing? If not, why not? What is impeding our growth, how can we foster it?

After we returned I was reading some verses about growth and noticed something I'd never picked up on before. In 1 Cor. 3, Paul tells the Corinthians that they weren't ready for solid food, they were still too worldly, still too filled with jealousy and quarrels... they were still just mere men. What struck me is that spiritual growth is supposed transform us into more than mere men. This is what made this gathering of people so different...with Jesus at the helm of their lives, they are more than mere men. These people are not willing to just stay comfortable in their familiar, comfortable environment, they are continually growing and reaching out.

Bob commented on what an awesome time he had golfing with complete strangers. Because of the connectedness he felt with these men through Jesus, he was able to laugh and share with them as if he'd known them his entire life.

I could fill pages with all the fascinating stories and heartfelt sharing. A couple who especially touched Bob and I had fostered and then adopted three boys. They've suffered through trials and set backs with their boys that would have sunk most people... yet they exude joy! They laughed more in the short time we spent with them than some people do in an entire year. Bob and I were profoundly affected by their example, so inspired by their example.

The night before we checked out, one of the men approached Bob and said a few of them had decided they wanted to pick up the tab for our entire stay. We were so bowled over by their unexpected generosity that we hardly knew how to express our gratitude.

That last night I didn't sleep a wink as I played over in my mind all the stories, the people, the sharing, the generosity, the love and the hope that was shared. It was mind boggling the way these people reached out to us. I still don't understand it, but Bob and I have decided we want to reach back. We don't want it to be just a vacation we'll never forget, we want to do what it takes to maintain these connections that God undoubtedly orchestrated.

I used to think a gorilla could do my job. Not anymore. I think it would shock most people to know just how much we need to know. Not just know, but prove our mental and physical prowess each and every year. It's either that or lose our jobs.  Plus I doubt gorillas love people and love to travel, ha-ha.

Oddly enough, the more I fly the more I think passengers believe we're nothing short of little Einstein's.

They believe our geography knowledge is second to none. They think we're capable of discerning which state lines we are crossing. We can name every mountain range we're flying over, every body of water and each little city.

They believe we are capable of predicting the future. We can tell them if the weather is going to affect our arrival or departure time. I always thought it would be fun to carry around a magic eight ball and when asked if they're going to make their connection, I could consult it and show them the answer, "Not likely."  Can you tell us if the row behind us will stay empty, so we can spread out a bit? I could give the eight ball another shake, "Fat Chance."

This is only a tiny sampling of how deep and vast they believe our knowledge is. It's almost like some of them get dumbed down the minute they step on board. Many have trouble deciding if they should head into the cockpit or down the aisle. They have difficulty matching their seat number with the row they're in. They can't decipher diagrams that tell them whether they're at the window or the aisle. They can't distinguish the ashtray (that's in the center of the door) from the door handle to get into the lavatory. On doors you need to push to get into, there's a big sign on the door that says, "PUSH." They find this so baffling I need to do a charade-like illustration of "pushing" to help them out. They can't remember the definitions of "occupied" and "vacant."

Remember those toys we played with when we were little--the ones that had different shapes that fit into different holes? Only the square shaped piece fit into the square shaped hole? When they get on an airplane that simple concept escapes them. At least we didn't break the toy when the square piece didn't fit into the rectangular hole. Not them, they will break the bin before they'll recognize that their square luggage will not fit into the rectangular sized bin. On the buttons above their seat they have trouble differentiating the reading light button from the flight attendant call button--even though the light button has a picture of light bulb on it.
 

Our knowledge of the airplane itself surpasses those of the best mechanics. We can pinpoint every odd noise it makes, the speed at which we are flying, the maximum range of each aircraft, the type of engine it has and how many engines it has (um, isn't that one kind of obvious?). What's really funny is that I actually throw out answers like, "it's  just the hydraulics." The sad truth is I don't even know what hydraulics are. I keep meaning to find out. But I heard a pilot give that answer for a noise I hear a lot and so I know that's what it is.  What I can truthfully answer (and often do) is, "it's normal." If it isn't "normal" you can bet your bottom dollar I'd let someone know it wasn't normal. 

I remember when my son, Dane, was only four years old and had to sit by himself on a flight. I drilled him on how to act, "Have your order ready, don't you dare ask what we have, tell them as quickly and clearly as possible what you want, say 'please' and 'thank you' and then just sit there and look at your books."

The whole time I'm giving him his "coaching" he's staring up at the flight attendant call button and at the end of my explicit instructions to ONLY push it if there's an emergency, he adds "...or if I want another drink."

"NO! Haven't you been listening?? I said NEVER push it unless there's an emergency."

"Well--then why is the button a picture of a lady carrying a drink?" he asks, logically enough. Why, indeed? Because flight attendants didn't design them, that's why.

"Just don't do it, okay?" And he didn't. 

He was a perfect little passenger and did the most perfect thing of all--he slept the entire flight.

I just got back from three long, brutal days of training in Atlanta. As part of merging with Delta, we are acquiring several new types of aircraft and all flight attendants must be qualified on each and every one of them. Thus I've endured three days of cramming in hundreds of new facts, new commands, and new ways of dealing with emergencies and then being tested on all of it. Failing isn't an option.

I've concluded that there are no two words in the English language that can knock the sense out of me quite like "Easy Victor." In an emergency situation, when the words "Easy Victor" are heard from the cockpit it technically means the airplane has come to a complete stop. For us, it means Act 1, Scene 1, and we are the sole performers.

It is imperative that we say our lines verbatim and that our actions follow the script exactly. Just when I think I've got my "role" down, I hear those words "Easy Victor" and suddenly I can't even remember the first word of the first line, much less what my hands and body are supposed to be doing.

If a "take 2" is required we are not allowed to be told what we did wrong in "take 1." We think about it and start from "Easy Victor" again. If a "take 3" is required we take a break and go think long and hard about how we're going to perfect our "role" because there will be no "take 4."After three days of numerous "performances" I've decided that I absolutely detest the words "Easy Victor."

Lest you think I didn't learn anything useful I will conclude with something I learned that was helpful (we even watched an ever-so-helpful video on it): Do not send any incapacitated crew members down the escape hatch head first.