Ten Years

I feel that I am one of the richest women in the world. My riches are not in stocks, bonds or property. My riches are in love.

Today I have been married to my best friend for ten years. (That sounds like an invite to a wedding many anniversaries too late.) I must say, the investment I made when I walked down the isle has come back with so much return I don't think I can measure it. All I know is, I love Steve more and I feel and understand his love more than I could have dreamed. The idealism I felt as a bride has been proven to be true, love sustains.

We have not been rich in things and often have felt rather poor in our means. The hopes and dreams we had 3650 days ago have been dashed, become dusty and have changed many times over. We have born the burdens of parental illness, heavy financial responsibilities, a disappointing career change, three years of grad school and infertility. Through all the storms we have always had the safety and comfort of our love for each other to keep us going and inspired. Neither of us have given up on each other no matter how frustrated we have been with situations and our reactions to them.

I still tell Steve I love him at least three times a day, some days it is in the double digits. I can't help it really, it flies out of my mouth each time we talk on the phone or I leave in the morning or kiss him good-night. Sometimes the love just wells up when we're sitting in front of a movie or talking about an issue and I wrap my arms around him in joy to be spending that time with him. I can't leave the house without kissing him good-bye and he patiently tolerates that I wake him up every morning to do so. And I don't know what we did before cell phones, b/c we call each other several times a day. We have a constant awareness of each other and meeting the needs the other has, so we need to check in.

Time has not softened me to computer stores and my husband finds some way to tolerate craft stores, but we pretty much like doing everything together. God's plan of the two becoming one really does work. Sometimes I forget that he is not me. Most times it is hard to ignore that we are different people, but I have grown to accept the breadth of who I am as part of who Steve is. We joke that we are on two different clocks and in our day to day, it is true. I sleep before him and wake before him. I like my dinner warm and as close to 5:00 as possible, he likes his cold and as close to 11:00 as possible. I love morning, he loves night. We seldom seem to naturally get into sinc. And I think this has made our life that much richer from the expansion of it. If he is awake he can do things I can't get done, if I am awake, I do the same for him. I cook, he cleans the dishes. I write the bills, he mails them. We have worked out ways to blend our lives even though we have to make conscious efforts to meet each other sometimes.

The phrase, "familiarity breads contempt" is an absolute lie. Familiarity with my love has bread respect, intrigue and comfort. I find my husband to be even more handsome than he was at 24 and I have told people that I think my husband can do anything. I am not exaggerating when I say it, I truly believe that he has abilities to learn absolutely anything and be proficient. He never stops amazing me with what he can do. And what I feel most when he does something new, is appreciation, because he usually sets out to learn a new skill in order to benefit me. When the sink needed to be fixed, he learned how to do it. When my computer stops working properly, he will take the hours to fix it. When we needed shelves, he built them. When we start to fix up our apartment, he will know exactly what needs to be done. That's just him, capable and motivated to make my life better.

I used to feel threatened when we were first married because he was so much more gifted than I. I wondered if I would become boring to him because I didn't have any new things to amaze him with. I was envious of his abilities to make things and feel instantly comfortable with people. Now I see those things as his gifts to me. Where I lack, he picks up. And as far as keeping him interested, I have come to accept that my humor, my cheerleading, my clumsiness, keep him enough amused to spend another ten years with me.

Marriage may be like a good wine that gets better with age, but having no experience with wine, I would compare my husband to a favorite movie. He is very familiar and I tolerate the bad parts because I treasure the good parts, that's why he is my favorite.

The Ocean

I love the ocean. However, of anything in God's creation, the ocean has always been frightening to me. Paradoxes are intriguing to me, maybe that is why I love people so much.

While I was in Maine this summer I went to the beach in Old Orchard. This is not a new event, I have been going to the beach in Old Orchard since I was 8 months old. What was unique about this visit is how the Lord used that patch of sand to speak to me.

I drove myself down the four blocks from my parents' cottage on this particular morning. There was no question as to where I would go on the 7 mile stretch, the Forsters always go to the same block length of sand. I know that section very well, however as the waves crash loudly, haphazardly, harshly, I am always reminded that this is God's creation not mine. While I have lots of memories there and can tell you with my eyes closed where the rock outcroppings are and can describe how the sand slopes to the shore, I cannot tell you where the waves will crash. I can claim that space as mine, but never truly felt it was, until that sweet morning.

Within the last year, I have learned the value of walking slowly, meditating on what the moment I am experiencing is to mean, and what God is doing at that moment in my life. I walked slowly that morning from "Sally Rock" (as the Old Orchard Beach Camp Meeting faithful call the outcropping of rocks where we gather), to the next outcropping. I kept having these strange sensations of emotion, from elation to confusion about what being in this special place, near this very scary ocean was to mean.

I kept listening. I kept walking.

Soon I was hearing the comfort of the Spirit's voice, "I have etched this place onto your heart." I was happy to hear this, but wondered why He would tell me or for what reason it would need to be etched there. Then I pondered what it was I had come to the beach alone for,, it was for refreshment. Old Orchard Camp Meetings have always been my annual pilgrimage for refreshment and this year was not different. Here I was at the beach looking for it, listening for what God would give me and this was what it was, that I could tap into this place of refreshment always, no matter where I was, because the beach was in my heart where He resides. He showed me that with visit after visit, hours of playing, walking, thinking, dreaming, praying on that section of sand and water that he etched it into me. I crunched my toes into the sand with gratitude and inspected the rock for shells and creatures, in the comfort of familiarity.

If the beach was etched onto my heart, then I wanted to know about those ferocious waves. So I turned to face them. As I stood there I felt the pull of the tides on my feet. I walked deeper in, close to my knees. I could really feel the pull and the fear. I kept standing there listening and soon began to feel a cleansing. With each wave after that, I felt God was washing my soul. Some waves took my worries, the next few took my fears and soon my burdens floated away. I felt the power of His waves of grace washing into my soul. I welcomed the cleansing of that salted water on my legs and deep into my spirit. The pressure of the tide on my legs never lessened and the lesson kept being pounded in with the every push and pull of the tide. I felt the love with each crash I heard.

My fear of the power of those waves has lessened. They are still powerful and I don't plan to swim far from shore when I visit that beach again, but they belong to the hand of my loving Father who uses them as the metaphor for His refreshment. He uses whatever at his disposal to teach me of His love. Even now I feel those waves ebbing and flowing through me.

My favoirte Army song desribes my experience well:

O Boundless Salvation,
Deep ocean of Love,
O fulness of mercy, Christ brought from above,
The whole world redeeming, so rich and so free,
Now flowing for all men, come, roll over me!

My sins they are many, their stains are so deep
and bitter the tears of remorse that I weep
But useless is weeping, thou great crimson sea
Thy waters can cleanse me, come roll over me!

My tempers are fitful, my passions are strong,
they bind my poor soul and they force me to wrong;
Beneath thy blest billows deliverance I see,
O come, mighty ocean, and roll over me!

Now tossed with temptations, then haunted with fears,
My life has been joyless and useless for years;
I feel sonething better most surely would be
If once thy pure waters would roll over me

O ocean of mercy, oft longing I've stood
On the brink of thy wonderful life-giving flood
Once more I have reached this soul-cleansing sea
I will not go back till it rolls over me.

The tide is now flowing, I'm touching the wave
I hear the loud call of the mighty to save;
My faith's growing bolder delivered I'll be;
I plunge 'neath the waters, they roll over me.

And now, hallelujah! the rest of my days
Shall gladly be spent in promoting his praise
Who opened his bosom to pour out this sea
Of boundless salvation for you and for me.

William Booth (1829-1912)

New Life

We have two little yellow chicks living in the nest on our fire escape now. Mama's sitting has been worth it.

My sitting has brought some new life as well. Some sweet times of breakthrough happened for several of my guys this week. Months of listening, nudging, cheering, have built trust which led to insight into what I have been saying.

God is the timekeeper, not I, and He has shown that in good time eggs well nurtured and matured, will hatch. Now I'll keep watching Mama Bird for lesson plans on flying.

Mama Bird

Mama Bird continues to sit on her nest. It has been about 13 days since she layed her eggs. She is there every day, all day, except when Papa Bird relieves her to go find some food. She reminds me to be still and persistent.

I keep wondering how long it will take for the eggs to hatch. She doesn't look like she is in too much of a hurry. I gotta keep learning how to just sit and stop worrying about the outcomes, I'm not helping the ones I sit for when I try to rush things. I'm glad she's there as my reminder.

Some lessons

I so often want to know things on the first try. I often used to quit something if I didn't get it the first one or two times. I want my life to be like a movie sequence, you know where the main character learns a lot in a lot of situations or resolves an issue probably over several days and weeks, but it all goes by with a lot of great music and is over in two or three minutes.

We do learn things over time and it can be as exciting as the movies portray, they just take longer and are not always our complete focus. Take my knitting for instance. When I learned how to knit, I learned on gigantic needles and yarn and it was prtty easy (thanks to my friend Christy). When I attempted to do a project with half the size of materials, I struggled. When I went to my knitting shop and asked them to assist me with a stitch so I could complete a project I was starting, wise Gerty told me, "Rome was not built in a day. Go home an practice this stitch before you think about a project." I was disheartened and determined to prove her wrong. I worked on my piece with the intention to get it right the first time. but after completing maybe 15 rows, I saw how horriblly I had missed a row and had to take the whole thing out. As I began again, my determination waned as I had to start over maybe 20 times easy, because I kept losing stitches. I kept hearing Gerty's voice in my head, "Rome wasn't built in a day." That phrase slowly became a mantra, much like the music behind a movie sequence. I knit to its rhythm in a way and with practice I improved. Now I can look back on my slow moving sequence of learning and see that I have succeeded and now am knitting like a movie star.

The other lesson I learned comes from my favorite Mets announcers. They always say that if someone has had a slump that they are due for a hit or a good pitching outing. I don't know if all announcers view it this way, but I'm glad these guys see the upside of the downside. It makes me think about how when I have not been very successful or proud of myself, I'm due for some success. When discouraged I hope I'll remember these lessons and keep trying, knowing that I'm due for a homerun and even without music, I'll have my own learning sequence to reflect on.

Sitting

A mama pigeon has laid an egg in a nest on our fire escape. From our dining table we can see her. She sits a lot on that egg.

It made me think of what I do most of the time. I sit, hoping that my effort will produce good things. I sit on trains and buses for long periods of time, getting to the people I am scheduled to meet. Once I get to a location, I often have to sit again until an appointment starts or a group meeting ends. I sit in waiting rooms at treatment clinics at doctor's offices and court houses. I sit and wait, I sit and pray, I sit and settle myself. I sit and sit and sit until I can finally sit with the person I have come to meet. I sit to better concentrate on them and what they need. I sit to be clear minded enough to ask the right questions that spurs on the growth or the undoing that blocks their progress. I sit and listen. I sit and care. I sit and can see them eye to eye.

I always pray that when I get up from sitting that goodness will come of it. Sometimes that one sitting becomes a turning point and has effect. Most times I must plan to sit some more. Maybe I'll sit for weeks, months or a year, before some progress happens. Maybe I'll sit and the person I sat with and for, will only feel some remote comfort or some ease of distress while I sit with them. For all the time I sit for them, it will never be enough.

I am a mother bird of sorts. I think Jesus must be a mother bird too.

Happiness is..

standing in my kitchen reading over menus before I delve into chopping, sauteing and simmering. I find cooking to be one of the delights of my day. It is a time when I think of nothing else, but the project I am working on and maybe the baseball game on the radio.

I came to cooking late. I've been married for nine years, and we have survived somehow, but I would not call what I did for at least the first seven years, to be anything resembling cooking. I saw it as such a burden to cook after working or studying all day. During graduate school we lived in the restaurants around Flushing. I can't believe I eat Boston Market food again because after three years of that being the only decent American food I could find, I was sick to death of it.

Steve and I have had conflicts over what food I could make, since we are trying to blend the east with west on our table. We had to agree not to be in the kitchen together either because that is where our differences are most evident. The use of fire and knives by our mothers and their mothers for generations created quite the divisions in our little kitchen and caused us to feel the tides of our homelands pulling us away from each other. In order to keep our marriage intact we made a pact to not prepare food in the presence of the other.

Now I have the kitchen as my place of soitude. I stand at the counter my sweet husband made for me (with a Japanese saw and American colonial hand tools) and feel empowered. I can take ingredients and make them into a meal. I can handle all the tools that surround me. I can make food that nourishes and tastes good.

I owe my interest in food to my cool brother and sister-in-law, Jeff and Paige, who modeled fresh cooking for me for years. (And I should mention Cook's Illustrated, their secret weapon.) They of course made me feel like a pea for most of those years, b/c I did not have a clue where to begin, but they let me test my abilities in their well-stocked kitchen on my visits.

With everythig in my life it was grace that brought me to this happiness. The Lord asked me for years to slow down. He put several things along my path to cause me to stay home more and take care of myself more. Cooking became a way to occupy myself and eat right. He gave me the desire and guts to try.

I do not have a lot of tangible accomplishments in my life, but cooking allows me to see the fruit of my labor, or the Chicken Marsala as the case may be (my new fav). Tonight it was chicken cutlets meuniere, braised fennel and almond rice pilaf, I think this east meets west thing has really turned out well. Yum!!