Falling Off Horses

When I was a little girl, my father use to take my sister and me riding horses on Saturdays. I was about 7, and Paula was about 10. Every single week, we got to ride the same horses from our local riding stables. Paula got Lightening – the name says it all. Lightening was this rich brown color, with a black mane that flowed in the wind as he galloped through the open fields. He was strong, he was energetic, he was independent. That was Lightening.

My horse’s name was Nell – once again, all in the name. Nell did have 4 legs, and there was a little mane left, but as far as speed goes, a one-year old could toddle faster than Nell could walk. And, she had an attitude problem. She’d be basically well mannered around her handlers and my father back at the stables, but as soon as we got on the trail, she’d have to stop every 10 feet for relief of some sort.  Her most challenging attribute, was when she would go up to a fence or tree and try to push me off.  Every week,  same story.

This was my beginning with the equine population.

When I was in 7th grade, my best friend had a Welsh pony that she just adored. She kept calling him Gelding, which I thought was his name, but later discovered that it was actually his state of being, after having been surgically altered. Every weekend, she’d go ride “Gelding”, and one Saturday, I went with her. Now, friend Karen rode Gelding bareback. They were beauty in motion. They had the same rhythm, the same cadence – they had that special non-verbal communication that only a horse and its master can have. When it came my turn to ride, Karen was insistent that riding bareback was easier than riding in a saddle. Reflecting back, I’m assuming it was easier for her to not have to go through all that to put the saddle on. Karen put her hands in the cupped position to help hoist me upon Gelding, and all was good. All was good until Gelding started to move. I told Karen I felt like I was sliding, and her response was to start giggling. The more I slid on this horse, the harder she laughed. I was afraid to let go because I thought he might step on me, so, with my legs still wrapped around him, I kept sliding around until my head, literally, was down by his front leg. I’m sure the vision was similar to what a baby monkey looks like when it is clutched tightly to its’ mother’s underbelly as she walks through the forest.

Another horse, another laughing friend. Marsha had a breed of sporthorse called a Hanoverian, which was over 17 hands high. In horsespeak, a “hand” represents about 4 inches, and 17 hands is apparently really tall. Marsha was training this horse for the Olympics in a riding event called “Dressage”. She offered to let me take her prized mare for a spin around the corral. I wanted to just stroll around the corral, but apparently, the horse wanted to run it out. The more she galloped, the tighter I held on to the reins and gripped with my knees. As I was screaming to her about how to get this devil’s spawn  to stop, Marsha was hysterically laughing as she was running behind me telling me to quit gripping with my knees because that was making the horse run faster. From an inexperienced horse rider’s perspective, you can understand my dilemma. Finally, as we rounded another curve, the horse took it so quickly that it slung me off, making me fly through the air, and not land with the greatest of ease. Marsha could not pick herself up off the ground because of the humor of the situation.

So I guess it appears that I am not an equestrian. However, what I know is that if I fall off a horse, apparently, I get back on. In the psychology field, I think that is suppose to be an ok trait.

I’m grateful that God continues to give me the desire to keep plowing through tougher times when, at the same time, He’s the one Who is allowing those times, knowing that I will grow more faithful to Him than in times of comfort.

Love, Kim

 

Color My World

I love colors – bright, colorful colors. I am one of the many color people in a neutral world. This actually goes against the social norm right now, because it is very trendy to design/decorate/dress in neutral colors, more affectionately known as earthtones. I actually find the descriptive word “earthtones” amusing because when I look at the earth, I see so much more than 27 shades of tan and beige. To me, the earth is where all the color is – green grass, blue sky, orange/red/yellow monarch butterflies, bluebonnets, red Indian paintbrushes, pink/orange/yellow sunsets, red/blue/purple/green rainbows, etc. Those are earthtones to me.

When I was young, one of my favorite days was in September when my mom would take us shopping for school supplies. That was the day I got to get my fresh, new box of 24 Crayola crayons. I would open the box, smell that familiar smell, and  just sit as I would absorb 22 shades of blue! I even liked the customized names Crayola would give to each little crayon. . . . Periwinkle Blue, Sienna Brown, Goldenrod, Shamrock Green. Then came the year the Crayon company jumped up to a 48 crayon box. I couldn’t believe my eyes! All that color in my little hand! Then the BIG year came – 96 crayons! I almost passed out right there on the Safeway aisle! Could life really be so good to me???? Yes, I like colorful Crayola crayons.

I actually even like going to office supply stores and walking to the paper section. Some of the stores have kiosks with shelves of colored paper, and I will stand there,  spinning the colors. As you can imagine, I also love the paint swatch section at the hardware store too:  a veritable plethora of every color imaginable. And again, creative little names accompany every single
color. I can actually feel my mood elevate by seeing all the bold little guys in their colorful splendor.

When the neutral/earthtone phase first re-emerged a couple of years ago, I tried to accommodate society by giving in, and I painted our walls neutral.  I even purchased some neutral colored clothing, put on my beige pants and a big smile, and walked out into the world. After a couple of weeks, I noticed that I had kind of lost some of my energy, some of my verve, some of my personal “color”.  The next day, I put my colors back on, and lo and behold!! – I was revived!! The day after that, I put my new neutral clothes in a bag for CCA. The painted walls stayed neutral, but I went and bought two green couches!

One of the best gifts I think people can give others is to truly know themselves, to dance to their own tune, to appreciate what they’ve been created to appreciate. The individuality of each one of us is what adds color to this world.

During this spring, the day after Easter, there is a new birth,  a new refreshment.  I’m grateful my world is colored.

Love, Kim

 

Nathan

It has been two years, this month, since our son-in-law, Nathan, (Lauren’s husband) died. At his funeral, Lauren had asked me to talk about him as a man, husband, and father.  These were the thoughts that came to me, and I wanted to publish them as a way to remember this most precious man.

 

 

Mike and I have always told Lauren, Ryan, and Patrick that if we got to choose our kids all over again from a million kids, we’d choose them again. And if we got to choose our son-in-law all over again from a million sons-in-law, we’d choose Nathan.

 

Lauren never dated anyone before Nathan, so I always felt that she would recognize who she was looking for when he came along.  And she did.  She told us she had met this guy, but she didn’t describe how good-looking he was, or how intelligent he was, or how athletic, or how driven he was.  Instead, her description of him was that he had just taken a group of inner-city boys on a campout; and, since he couldn’t afford to go to his mom’s for Thanksgiving, he instead had invited a group of international students to his apartment and he was going to make them a traditional Thanksgiving feast.

 

Lauren and Nathan started dating in January, and by the time he moved to Chicago (for the semester) two or three weeks later, they were committed.  It was such a whirlwind; we didn’t even get to meet him before he left.  But while he was there, they spent really quality time each day on phone calls, emails, and even wrote real live letters to each other.  Lauren read me one of his 16 page letters, and I thought this is the man we want our daughter to marry.

 

In March, he was able to come back to Dallas to visit. I had spoken to him on the phone, but it was our first chance to spend a weekend with him. This was a very important man to our family, and we did not take it lightly at all.  So the day came.  He walked into our home, sat down at our dining table, and he. . . . . . . . .  tooted!  Welcome to Nathan’s world.

 

After that, almost every weekend, he made a 7 hour flight down here(with the connections), stayed a day or two, and then had to fly 7 hours back to get to work.  It was such a labor of love, and he went to great lengths to court this young woman.  They spent hours talking, challenging each other, and discovering where they wanted their lives to go.  And all along, as he stayed with us, we got to know him well.  He called me in April, and asked if I would pick him up at the airport at 4:30am because he wanted to surprise Lauren and officially ask her to marry him.

 

When we got back from the airport, I got him temporarily set up in the kitchen as he composed himself.  As I left him alone, I have the sweetest memory of this godly man reading his Bible, with a single lamp on in the house, memorizing what he wanted to say as he offered his life and his love to our daughter.  I could hear him quietly going up the stairs, walking into Lauren’s dark room where she was sleeping, and thinking about him quoting from the Song of Solomon, “Arise, my darling, my beautiful one, and come with me.”  It was so very meaningful.  (It was, however, temporarily halted when Lauren awoke in the dark and momentarily thought it was her brother Patrick.  But it worked out just fine.)

 

This is a man who understood at his young age how to be the head of his family, and Lauren wanted to be submissive to him.  It really was the way the Bible describes it if the man is allowing Jesus to lead him first. He did not use control, or demands, or ultimatums.  He used love, logic, strength, support, and prayerful direction, and won the respect and admiration of his bride.  He was the Watchman on the Wall for his family.

 

I wish you could have seen the look on his face one day when he, Lauren, and I were talking and she told him that she trusted him more than anyone else in the world.  What a blessing on a husband for a wife to tell him that.

 

They learned very early on how to truly communicate.  I told Lauren that they were blessed in that they never went through early marriage discord.  God just worked on their hearts and gave them the opportunity to not waste time in needless bickering.  In October, when it was Lauren’s birthday, she called me in the afternoon to tell me she thought Nathan had forgotten it.  She wanted me to call him and try to indirectly remind him.  Her only concern was that she did not want him to feel bad if he missed it.  They made the effort to keep their eyes on the important things in a marriage, and they were rewarded for it.

 

The gifts he gave her were always unique.  I watched as this fisherman, hunter, skier, mountain climber sat on our couch for several days macrameing a necklace for her for their anniversary.  Or, how he set up a camera in downtown Denton when all the Christmas lights were on and took some beautiful photos of the two of them, and then cut out the mat and frame to give her for Christmas.  Or, the day he called to find out how to

make a robe for her, with no pattern, even though he had previously only stapled his badges on his scout uniform.  He knew how to give.

 

I remember when they first got back from their honeymoon.  They had just started moving their stuff in the apartment that week, so it was a wreck.  While they were gone, Ryan, Patrick and I went over every night and put stuff away and cleaned it really well, set the table, put out the candles and the flowers for them so it would be nice when they walked in.  I’m so glad we did.  As they were leaving our house to drive back to theirs for the first time, I mentioned that they were going to their own little home.  Nathan stopped and thought about it for a minute and said, “I have not had a home of my own since I was 15.”

 

Then two years later, God blessed them with their very own house.  I walked into our mortgage broker at work, and said, “What are the chances of two 23-year olds with no money, barely a job, barely any credit, getting into a house?”  He said, “Pretty good!”  Thirty days later they moved in, and God gave Nathan and his little family a safe place to lay their heads.

 

Two months later, Jack was born, and I got the privilege to be there, while Mike and friend Carter waited right outside the door. Nathan was so calming, and supportive.  In fact, there was one point where the midwife asked Lauren if she wanted some drugs, and she said that maybe she did want drugs.  Nathan gently reminded her of their goals, and said, “You don’t want drugs.” Then Lauren repeated, “I don’t want drugs.”  Nathan nor I had ever seen a baby being born(at least from that perspective), and we both stood a little stunned that just as the top of Jack’s head was coming, we silently, but collectively, thought that it did not really look like a wrinkled baby’s scalp.  Nathan was still so calm.  He later told me he thought Jack was being born with an exposed brain, which is better than me, because I thought he looked like a Shar-Pei puppy.  But, nevertheless, Jack came out with gusto.  The only little thing Nathan missed on his timing was 1-2 minutes after Jack was in the world, Nathan excitedly said, “Lauren, that was great! Let’s have seven of them!” 

 

Nathan was the first person to ever put a diaper on Jack, the first person to ever dress him. It took him about 25 minutes, but he did it.  He was so excited about watching Jack do all the boy stuff – in  fact his name, Jack Elijah Taylor, i.e. JET, would look great on the back of his football uniform.  I loved to tease Nathan, so I said it would also look great on the back of his tuxedo during his piano recital.  Nathan just groaned.

 

There are quite a few of us that felt Nathan sensed he wasn’t going to live too long.  He did tell Lauren when they were engaged that they might not have a long life together, but they would have a full one.  And, he most definitely kept his promise.

 

One of my favorite quotes has always been the one from Jim Elliot, “Live, to the hilt, every situation you believe to be the will of God.”  Nathan personified this.  He did  not beat people over the head with the Bible – he just read it, understood it, and lived it.

 

He was a precious husband, a loving father, and a child of God.  As Nathan moved from this life into the next, the picture I have in my head is of Jesus greeting him, with arms open wide, as He says, “Well done, Faithful Servant.”

 

 

 

Out of the darkness

Grateful for the Light that’s offered to me everyday, wherever I go . . . . . . . light HERE.

Love,Kim

(thanks Patty!)

 

On the Edge

Joined a group of people who are all seeking Godly wisdom and some self-discovery along the way.  From the large group, we break down into smaller groups. There were 7 women in my little circle, ranging in ages from 24 to 51.  We all came together, no one knowing each other, all looking like pretty little suburban residents, all with polite manners, and big smiles on our faces as we warmly greeted each other. First assignment, go around the circle and tell us about yourself, and if you’d like, some struggles you may be encountering right now.  It was like a falling House of Cards. As each woman declared before her turn to talk that she did not have an overly emotional or particularly weepy personality, smiles turned to tears in nano-seconds when given the opportunity to have someone(s) really  listen. No advice was offered back, no comment, no sidechair counseling, no judgmental look, no hug. Just a wise group leader and 7 other people listening to you, with a promise to pray to Jesus for your  restoration. It really made me realize how on the edge people are. . . . . . .how fragile people are. . . . .how many people I speak with during the day that are literally two minutes away from imploding in on themselves. For a myriad of reasons. Two out of three of our children are particularly drawn to international missions.  I haven’t ever been in any significant way. I have always thought that there was quite a bit of ministry here – those seeking salvation, yes, and also those who are saved but just in need of someone to share their burdens. This group of women reaffirms my thoughts . . . . . . there are broken hearts everywhere, and they don’t all look like the battered women of the Congo. Sometimes they are disguised with big smiles and have big lives. I had this vision of a bunch of little birds with broken wings that had dropped out of the sky. It’s hard to fly with a broken wing. Or a broken heart. Or a broken spirit.

I’m grateful for the ministering saints to whom God gives the strength/direction/discernment to carry the load of those who have lost all of theirs.

Love,Kim

 

Always Do What’s Right

We’ve all had them. Those little incidents that test our honesty, our integrity.  When I was about 16 years old, I went to a convenience store to get a newspaper out of the . . . . . . .  newspaper contraption. I put my 50 cents in, opened the door to retrieve my paper, and at once all the quarters came pouring out of the spout. It was like a slot machine in Las Vegas! There was one person in the store, the attendant.  I gathered up all the coins - there were so many I couldn’t carry them in my hands - and I had to make a quasi-basket out of the skirt I was wearing. I went to the clerk, dumped all the money on the counter, and told him what happened.  His response. . . . . “Are you a Christian?”  I told him I was. Interestingly enough, for some odd reason, I knew who the 22ish-aged clerk was.  It was Tom Nelson, who has now been the pastor at Denton Bible for over 30 years and is a most effective/powerful interpreter of scripture, and I might add, my best teacher of the Bible in all my life (and we don’t even go to his church).  From his testimony I’ve heard numerous times on different cd’s, he became a Christian when he was 22.  I think his question to me was a another way to validate that he had made a good, and apparently rather recent, decision to follow Christ. I might have had a cross necklace on, which made this momentary exchange more understandable. He was probably at that place in his walk where he was deciphering the output coming from those who claimed to be Christians. But what if he, as this new convert, had seen me with my cross necklace trying to abscond from the scene with my $25 worth of coinage? How would my actions, along with others that he had encountered, have marred his new found faith? Or, was God at that time, sending lots of believers his way to let him know that people could walk a fulfilling and righteous, although not perfect, life? We have no idea on an hour by hour basis, no matter how insignificant an incident may be, who may be watching our actions and words, and how it will affect their fledgling perspective of God. And how that fledgling perspective of God will grow and be used to touch thousands and thousands and thousands of people around the world – just as Tom’s messages have.

My son, Patrick, and I got into this conversation the other night. He had a little hostility toward some of ye ole’ religious hypocrites – people who profess to follow God, but live diametrically opposed to the teachings of the Bible. I agreed with him. There have always been hypocrites, and there always will be. Jesus recognized them right off the bat. He also gives us the discernment to do the same, and to call them out if so led.  And, as much as these hypocrites do affect the world, it’s not our job to focus on them, but to keep our eyes firmly focused on Christ, and His example. In Patrick’s life and I pray in all of our lives, there are a number of faithful, Christ-centered believers in and around. We’ll recognize them by the fruit that they produce. That’s how Jesus told us we’d know the true believers. There are people who live righteously, truly doing their best to honor God, honor others, and honor the life they’ve been given.  Sometimes we might be the only one of the group feeling like we’re standing all alone.  Regardless of the situation, regardless of the wrong that’s been done to us, regardless of all that is happening around us, we must always do what’s right. There are times when we all go through deserts. . . . . . we don’t feel like praying, we don’t feel like reading the Bible, we don’t feel like fellowshipping with other believers. We all have those times. And even when we feel out of touch with God and can’t seem to hear Him, we have to put our morality, integrity, honesty, and actions on auto-pilot and do what’s right. We can lie to ourselves, deceive ourselves, and try to rationalize 99% of a tempting situation. But after the temptation has passed, we will be there on the other side, with our integrity hopefully in hand.

How do I know what’s right? The standard of measure is the word of God. During my fruitful times, I have to download enough scripture into the files in my head so when these questionnable challenges do arise, the Holy Spirit can bring one of those life-sustaining truths to the forefront of my mind.

We must always do what’s right. Regardless of how un-hip, how inconvenient, how much we need that “thing”, how little sleep we’ve had, how big/small our excuse is.  We must always do what’s right. This became overly-evident to me in a sermon I heard from Tom Nelson a year or two ago.  Hmmm. . . . . . . .circle of life.

I’m grateful for the yardstick God gives us to know right from wrong. I’m grateful for the peace that comes from doing what’s right.

Love,Kim

 

The answer is blowin’ in the . . . . timing of God

So here we are, four months later, sitting in our “For Sale” house.  Still sitting.  Wondering where Mr. and Mrs. Buyer and their 4.6 children are.  The fact is, this is a really nice, blessed home. Lots of room to wrestle in – as our sons have delved in so often through the years. Lots of places to spread around while watching movies – as we’ve had many 6 foot long young men stretch out as they cheered on Maximus or William Wallace or other cinematic heroes.  Lots of couches, cubby holes, and comfortable spots to curl up in a good conversation.  Lots of dining spaces to sit down while enjoying a meal.  Lots of reclining furniture to rest, relax, repose, or read. All the things that lend towards having a peaceful home environment. And yet, we sit.  Waiting.

The interesting thing is that being in real estate, I know that houses in our price range and size aren’t moving as quickly as others in other price ranges and sizes. I know that we’re missing the coveted swimming pool that most houses in our neighborhood possess. I know that we should have that 3rd garage that is quite the necessary feature these days.  These things I know. 

On a more positive note, we’ve painted the whole thing, bought the new air conditioners and hot water heaters, had the flooring polished, regrouted, and steam cleaned. We’ve had the window washer schlepp his bucket and rags to all the windows. We have the new roof standing by ready to get tarred and feathered (or whatever they do to roofs). We have purged, merged, and surged all unwanted paperwork, clothing, old furniture, and wallhangings . . . . all in the interest of liberating the floors, closets, and wall space from undue burden.

Despite all these things that I think I know, this is what I know for sure.  This house will sell when or if God decides to bring the person(s) to buy it.  I keep looking at the bigger picture.  It truly does not matter how great this house is or what it may be needing in comparison to its real estate counterparts. The fact is, for us, it will sell when or if God decides it.  Period. He knows all our ”plans” of what we’ll do with the extra savings, and all the things we’ll have time to do when we’re no longer caring for this particular responsibility.  He knows our plans include honoring Him with our new chosen freedoms.  Seems all honorable. And yet, bottom line, He’ll bring a buyer when and if He decides to do so.

I identify, or at least totally appreciate, Nehemiah. God wanted him to rebuild the wall around the temple. Big job. He had to make a plan to get the big job done. He was a leader; he was a person of action; he was faithful to do what God wanted him to do; he recognized his part in his separation from God; and he prayed at the same time he posted guards to watch for enemy attack. So we have taken the necessary actions of  being responsible home sellers. We have rebuilt, as it were, the walls of the house that God has given us. Now it’s to the point where we can no longer do anything else. We stepped out on faith just putting the house on the market. We’ve run numerous newspaper ads, internet ads, open houses, and house tours by groves of realtors. We’ve taken action. We’ve prayed. So now we wait. And we know. God will bring a buyer when or if He is ready to bring them. We rest in that thought.

I’m very grateful that God is in all the details of these things that seem so momentarily, monumentally important, and at the same time, is the Master Planner of not only the universe, but of our house sale. . . . .  and our lives.

Love, Kim

 

One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Blue Fish

So, Ryan and Patrick apply as commercial salmon boat fishermen in the Kenai peninsula in Alaska this summer, and they get the job. (Ryan still holds the title for acquiring the most college jobs!). Skills, you ask?  Zero.  Boat experience, you may wonder?  None.  Not a problem. They sign the contracts, apply for their fishing licenses, and get their flights  -  all about 14 days before they leave.

The first day, Ryan (who is not a complainer) calls and says he’s going to have trouble respecting this boat captain.  About the sixth day, Patrick (who also is not a complainer) calls and says the boats are considerably smaller than he expected (virtually a 10 foot metal dingy), and they turn almost completely on their sides when bringing in a haul, all while combatting 6-7 foot swells.  Patrick decides about two days later that he doesn’t feel this is where he is suppose to be.  We talk about that if it is just fear that he needs to confront, then he should push through it. However, if he feels the Spirit is telling him to move along, then he needs to do that. He says the Spirit is definitely moving him along. A day later, Ryan calls back and says he too is going to leave, after not being able to hold his lunch down from the boat rides.  Additionally, one of the boat captain’s motivational tools to get them to work harder is to frequently tell every crew member that he’s going to either fire them or dock them. Every hour or so, they get the same motivation. Ryan says he kind of runs it like a battered boys camp. All grown up now, thank you. So, they sit and think, while watching eagles soar 40 feet over head and moose walk by, with their young calves following closely behind.  They are told there are jobs at canneries all over the place.  They quit the fishing boat, and go to find one of these cannery jobs.  Ha, ha. Joke is on them. No cannery jobs.

They leave Kenai and go on an 8 hour ferry ride to Kodiak Island.  No jobs there either. But some cool mountains to climb and a great place to hike around.  Rachel, in the unemployment office, looks for jobs for them, and holds onto their gear while they explore. They realize they have considerably less money than they thought they had, which seems to be a recurring theme in their lives.  (They didn’t really count on paying for overnight stays as their food and lodging were covered back at the fishing camp.)  So the first night, they aren’t willing to spend any of their remaining dollars on a cheap motel (no hostels to be found on Kodiak), and tell us the next morning that they found a perfectly warm and cozy open semi-trailer to sleep in. Well, maybe it was cold and hard, but at least off of the open grounds where the bears apparently make dinner plans. They kind of get a little frustrated due to the lack of employment, but they have found out that this is an extremely slow fishing season – probably now won’t be high season until August. What to do, what to do.

By now, these two scruffy (their beards grow quicker than any man alive), stinky (they smell like sweat and fish – they say it was really bad), unemployed, almost fishermen decide to go back over to either Homer or Seward. The ferry doesn’t leave until 10pm that night. They go pick their stuff up from Rachel at the unemployment office, where they find out that the ferry is delayed, and won’t be leaving until the next night. Great. . . . . . .  back to the semi-trailer. Rachel (who is in her late 50’s lest you wonder) says she has a good feeling about them. She invites them to come stay at her house for the night, washes all their clothes, makes them a huge dinner, and they spend the whole evening talking about God. . . . . . God – who knows when and how to refresh His children. She has a second night job and leaves them to sleep in her house while she trots off to work until noon the next day. They beg her to let them do some fix-up jobs around the house, but she only will let them take out the trash. That’s the way to travel – connecting with the local folks. The local folks who are willing to share their lives. Thank you, Rachel, for feeding and housing two weary, but very appreciative young Texan travelers.

As of today, they have scored a new job in Seward – they are going to be processors.  When the boats come in, they will unload the fish, clean them, and get them ready for filleting. Pays $7.50 an hour, and they’ll work 12 hour days for 7 days a week. Plus, they get room and board. Wonder what lessons God has in store for them there.  Rachel told them to really push about becoming filleters, because they can then make $16.00 an hour.  I can tell you right now, 12 hours a day handling fish right out of the water – mmm, they’re going to be popular with the girls ) .  This is the funny part – Patrick hates fish.  Bet ‘cha this will increase his passion for them!

But, all in all, they say it’s going to be a good summer. They’re going to do some more Alaska exploration. . . . . .  after a couple of weeks of schlepping fish and acquiring the necessary funds. This is the best part. . . . .when we talk to them, they both keep saying very peacefully, “I wish you could see what I’m seeing.”  Beautiful.  So grateful they are appreciating Creation, the land, and a completely different lifestyle. Also grateful to a little Alaskan woman with a generous heart. I hope I can be Rachel for someone else’s child who needs temporary refuge.

Love,Kim

 

Happy Birfday, Youse Guys!

Twenty-two years ago on June 16, Mike and I walked into the hospital to have a healthy baby. We walked out of the hospital with two healthy babies.  God really knows how to give good surprises!  

It’s Ryan and Patrick’s birthday.  To give you insight into them, one of the images I can remember from their lives is this.  They were in kindergarten, and all the kids were in a long line ready to go into the school.  We pulled up and they got out. Patrick went to the end of the line, and immediately started a quiet conversation with one or two of the other boys.  Ryan, on the other hand, walked over to the side where all the kids could see him at once, extended his arms open wide, and yelled, “I’m here!!!!”  Thus the difference.

Bryan Patrick has turned into this kind of man:

He’s a student of lots of things. He does well in school. Always has. He’s a chartmaker, a planner. Lists, lists, lists of all random kinds of things. All his life. Loves history. All his life. Loves military information. All his life, literally, since he was 3 or 4. (Started with Ghostbusters – you know, fighting the paranormal. I had to fight him to take a bath without his Ghostbuster neutralizer on his back.) Has read hundreds of books on all kinds of military training, battles, wars, branches of military, uniforms, weapons. Interesting that he is a pacifist.  Likes order and uses rules to help guide him. Not constricted by rules, but does appreciate them. A hopeless romantic. Seems to attract a lot of young women, but not a “player”. Good listener. Sincere. Biggest life goal is to have a family, with a wife who knows how to truly communicate.  Would like to keep his life simple. Good money manager. Has gone through a period of time where he thought that being a friend to everyone was the way to go for him. Remembers now and realizes that isn’t “how he rolls”. Not how he is created. Many casual friendships aren’t nearly as life-sustaining as several deep friendships. That way for most people, but especially for him. Loves his family. Appreciates wise counsel and good mentors.  Best friend is his polar-opposite brother.  Passionate about things he stands for. Has consistently journaled ever since he was probably 14 or 15.  Great work ethic. Starts what he finishes. Recognizes sin. Recognizes the weight of sin. Recognizes how it can take the joy offered to him from God. Loves God. Is saved by Jesus. Recognizes how freeing it is to walk with Jesus. Bryan Patrick – loved by Jesus. Loved by his family.

Ryan Michael has turned into this kind of man:

He’s a researcher. Always questionning. At 10, wanted to know how a mortgage works. Also at 10, was looking through a Penney’s catalog and had a question about one of the products.  Called the 1-800 number to inquire, and ever since then, we get Penney’s catalogs delivered to our house with Ryan’s name on them.  They also sent him a credit card application at the same age. I had to call and ask them to kindly take my 5th grader off of their pre-approved list. He’s a people-person. Perfectly comfortable in talking to complete strangers. In fact, usually engages the conversation himself. Perfectly comfortable speaking to groups of people. God has provided him quite a few opportunities. Holds my attention, every time. Uninhibited, at times. Big ideas, and is actually making most of them happen. Goal use to be to win the jackpot. Now the goal is to win the hearts of the underpriviledged. Caretaker. Sees God in everything. Charmer. Very creative with the few dates he’s been on. Wants to meet a girl with a little bit of moxie and a lot of world vision. Gets along well with adults, and with the elderly, and with the young ‘ens. Has learned to stop and smell the roses with all relationships – now takes time to quit talking and makes time to listen. Best friend is Patrick.  He says they’ve “got each other’s backs”. Leader. Had a dream that people kept following him everywhere he went. Decided to pray that if people were going to follow him, he needed to be leading well. Found out the best way to be a leader is to be a servant. Got the idea from Jesus. Who introduced him to humility. Who loves him.  Also loved by his family.  Ryan Michael.

Similarities, you ask??

They have each other’s ears. Literally. Their ears don’t match on their own heads. They both have rounded ears on the left side, and more pointed ears on the right side.  They also don’t each have a complete set of wisdom teeth. Two for one, two for the other. They also have the exact same sense of humor. Everyone else in the room will find something mildly amusing – they will bust out at exactly the same time. Their laughs are identical, which in my opinion, is one of the best things to share. In baseball, Ryan was always the pitcher and Patrick was always the catcher – on every team for 9 years.  In football, Ryan was the quarterback and Patrick was the tight end. No one else could catch Ryan’s throws with the same accuracy that Patrick could. Good teammates.

Good lifemates. Backpacking across Alaska together this summer. Great way to spend a birthday.

Sorry so long winded. But, after all, it’s 22 years. A really good 22 years. I’m immeasurably grateful.  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2ZD1S1aMJ_I

Love,Kim

 

Father’s Day

I’m grateful for fathers, especially good ones. Especially good ones who help to father boys and girls who don’t have fathers.

Mike is a good one. So was my father. So is God.

Love,Kim