Young, in Love, and Without a Clue

See these two?

They have no clue.  About pretty much everything.  

It's December 1999.  He's 23, she's 20.  They've been dating for a little over 2 months and about 4 hours after this picture was taken, they'd be officially engaged.  In fact, this is the engagement picture that went in the paper.  They are so happy, so in love, and so blissfully unaware of what real life is all about.  You know, the life you live after the wedding planning and the parties.  The life that happens after picking out a house, apartment, one-room duplex and counting the minutes til you both live there.  The life you start living when the big day you marry your best friend in front of everyone you love and the honeymoon are over.  That life.

This picture sits on my dresser, and it's been on my dresser for over 11 years.  (I'm not taking a picture of the back-- it's too dusty, and velvet's hard to clean!)  Every time I see it, I smile.  I also usually shake my head.  If Chris and I happen to see it together, we look at each other and laugh.  At us.  At them.  I laugh because I know that my biggest concern that night was the fact that my boyfriend/soon-to-be fiance came to pick me up for our InterVarsity semi-formal in deck shoes -- without socks!!  He laughs because our daughters don't recognize him (Is THAT Dad?!) and because neither one of us had ever made a real decision.  As in the kind of decision that costs A LOT of money.  

Lest it seem like we look back at that time sarcastically or without love, I need to say that I love this picture.  I love pictures that show hope.  Young love.  Excitement.  And this one has all of that.  While I normally can't stand pictures of myself, this one doesn't bother me.  In spite of the bangs.  It's a wonderful reminder of trust.  We didn't know much about what being grown-ups was all about.  But we knew that God had brought us together, and we trusted His plan for us.  Even though we had no idea what it was. 

I encourage you to find something that reminds you of the hope and the excitement you had for something, whether it's "way back when" or just "back when".  Think back, what was God showing you?  What were you trusting Him for?  What were you beginning or looking forward to?  He had a plan for you then and He has a plan for you now.

We have had so many life lessons over these past 12 years together, and they are worth sharing-- especially if we can prevent others from making some very stupid mistakes unintended errors of judgment!  I'll share them in time. 

We've learned that life, real life, is hard.  It's messy and scary.  It's unpredictable and confusing.  The more "life" I live, the more of God I see.  Because of this, and who He is, I know that this life is beautiful and full.  It is His gift to me.  And because of that, I smile.  And I laugh.  A lot.  My girls are hilarious.  But we'll get to them later. 

   

Poisoned, Overwatered, and Sunburned... One Leaf Left

In August of 2008, I was preparing to re-enter the workforce after being home with my girls for several years.  So many things were changing at once, and even though I was excited, I was nervous too.  In the span of a few weeks, I had interviewed for one position, been hired for another, and was now preparing to teach 3rd grade.  At a luncheon just before school started, I was introduced to my co-teacher, Jodi. (3rd grade is team taught, with one teacher responsible for Language Arts and the other for Science, Math, and Social Studies.)  She and I found common ground quickly, and although I don't remember all we talked about, it felt like we were old friends.  We were glad to learn that we each had 2 girls, and I was glad that hers were older than mine so she could give me advice-- she has!

A few days later, I found myself in a bright yellow classroom with shiny, white floors, big windows, and about a million thoughts in my head.  I wasn't sure what to do first, so I stood there for a minute to take it in.  Something on my desk caught my attention.  I found a sweet card from Jodi next to a pretty green plant with delicate red flowers.  Even though I hardly knew anyone at that point, I felt like I was home.  That plant became a precious treasure to me that day for what it represented: friendship, endurance, and promise.

Before I continue, I need to tell you that I do not have horticultural skills.  None.  My mom has given me two orchids over the years, and both times, the blossoms fell off, the plants shriveled up painfully, and I gave them back to her for rehab.  Orchids love my mom and they perk right up as soon as they realize they're safe-- and away from me.  I'm not a faithful "waterer", nor am I "attentive" to things like light levels and temperature.  

 Because of this, the only flowers I have much success with are these.  I only have to keep the vase full, enjoy their fragrance, and then get rid of them when...

 
...they look like this.




(Yes, these are two different bouquets, and no, I'm not passing them off as the same.  I'm just impressed I still had Valentine's Day flowers to use in my illustration!  I got 8 days out of these!!)






Not knowing my track record, it was good that the plant Jodi gave me was a succulent.  Succulents, like cactuses (cacti?), only need to be watered about once a week, are fairly hardy, and do well indoors.  Mine was a Euphorbia, which basically means, "plant with poisonous, milky sap."  We didn't know that for a few years, though, so no worries.  :)  I don't have a picture of it from the beginning of our relationship, but the picture below will give you a good idea of what it looked like.

For about a year, the happy plant lived on my desk among 40 sweet children.  It was repeatedly knocked off of my desk, spilling dirt all over the floor.  I'm sure that over time, the potting mix became equal parts soil and pencil shavings, but that was ok.  It grew steadily taller, kept blooming, and made me feel like "the little Botanist that could."  When it came time for summer break, I packed up my room and brought my friend home for the summer.  

Mistake #1.

Still unaware of the poison lurking in its stems, I decided to keep the plant at home, in spite of the fact that my cats sometimes chew on leaves.  Thankfully, they never did, and it continued to look lovely on my kitchen counter.  Until it didn't.

Gradually, my trusty succulent started looking pretty pathetic.  The leaves would start growing, only to shrivel up, turn brown, and fall off.  I hadn't seen any flowers in months and it just didn't seem to be doing well.  Re-potting seemed like a logical next step, much like giving someone on tv IV fluids for pretty much any ailment whatsover.  I bought a cute pot, found some dirt in the garage, and did the transplant.  Later that night, I proudly reenacted the whole event for Chris - every detail - and showed him the dirt I used.  It was at this point that I realized I used outside potting soil, which the label explained to be hazardous to indoor plants as the fertilizer could burn roots.

Mistake #2.

We released the plant from its toxic pot, rinsed the roots, and replanted it in normal dirt from the backyard, which was mostly sand.  Without doing any research at all, I decided that a thorough watering would be the next step to restoring good health.  Within a week's time, the leaves began turning yellow and gave up one by one.  Every morning, I'd find more laying limp on the counter.  Through investigation, I realized that the combination of the sand and the small hole in the pot had made draining inadequate impossible.  I had created a bog.  Oops.  

Mistake #-- Wait-- I'm going to lump the next mistake together with this one.

What's the best way to dry out a drowning plant?  Use a hair dryer?  Give it a tumble on extra dry low?  Dump the dirt and start again?  I'm not sure, but I'll tell you what NOT to do.  Don't put it outside on a scorching July day.  If you do, 

this will happen.

Mistakes #3 & 4.









In the course of a few weeks, I had taken a healthy plant and poisoned its roots, drowned it, then sunburned its leaves.  After I baked it for 2 days, every leaf fell off except one.  (He's a fighter!)  At this point, there was only one thing left to do: look for help on the internet.  It would have simply been too easy to do that first, and then I wouldn't have this wonderful story to tell you.

After about 2 minutes of research, I learned that all it needed originally was a little more light.  What I did would have been the equivalent of taking a trip to the sun to boost your vitamin D levels!  The solution was simple and I had totally missed it; I needed to take my plant - what was left of it - back to school.

Sure enough, tiny leaves began sprouting at the top of some really sad-looking stems.  Not a looker anymore, this plant.  Not to others, anyway.  But to me - especially to me (I knew what I had done to it!) - it was a picture of perseverance and God's plan for redemption in spite of our mistakes.  No matter how often we mess up, or how badly, He is there to redeem and restore us.  As he sustains us and provides for us each day, we grow.  The leaves, though tiny, grew toward the light as they were made to do.  Through His creation, my Father was illustrating His love for me. 

In Jeremiah 29, the Lord is speaking to the Israelites who had survived the exile from Jerusalem to Babylon.  He spoke His promise to them in their time of darkness and desolation, a promise of His continued faithfulness to meet their every need.  One of my favorite verses, Jeremiah 29:11, came to mind every time I looked at this plant: 

"For I know the plans I have for you," declares the Lord, 

"plans to prosper you and not to harm you, 

plans to give you hope and a future."

I am a visual learner.  I don't always pick up on subtle lessons.  This was definitely not a subtle lesson.  I tell everyone about this plant.  If you mention it to almost any of my coworkers, they'll tell you about the "one leaf" and what this plant means to me.  

My plant lives in my office now, on the corner of my desk where everyone can see it.  It's happy here, especially since it spent the summer on the windowsill "gaining strength", with my friend Marsha giving it just the right amount of water.

Here it is today, getting a little sun.  I propped it up with coffee straws, but that just adds character, don't you think?

What reminds you of His faithfulness when you feel like you have only one leaf left?

If it isn't easy, is it worth it?

Today was my first day as a real blogger.  I woke up like an 8 year old on Christmas morning, and ran to the computer to check my "stats."  I quickly shared my scheduled post to facebook (apparently, it no longer automatically feeds), and prepared myself for an abundance of comment love and tons of reads.  I just knew that as soon as I got home from work, I would be on the computer all night responding the the folks that loved my cat so much they had to know more about her.  Truthfully, I'm kidding.  I knew a few people would see it like my husband and my parents (although I'm not really sure if they know about it), but how many people can you really draw in with ONE story-- about a cat getting injured?  Building a readership takes time, and that's only if anyone cares what you're talking about.  While I can't promise to "wow" you, I hope that you'll keep coming back to see more of what I've been blessed to see and get to know the people I love, and what I'm learning life really means.

 With that goal in mind, I came home and set out to learn even more about blogger and how I could make this look better and more professional.  (I do spend a lot of time at work on such things, so I figured it would go as well at home.)  I figured wrong.  First, I saw that I didn't "share" correctly.  Instead of the blog title accompanied by a cute pic on the left, all I got was a long html string of code.  My friend Google?  No help.  I kept toggling back and forth between tabs, trying new things to make it look right, and just got more frustrated.  I realized I hadn't checked how many "reads" I had for the day, so I checked.  Imagine my delight to see that in the last 5 minutes, 16 people using Firefox had read MY blog?!  I knew cats were the ticket to greatness!  I smiled on back over to what I was doing, which was learning to write html code.  In 5 minutes.  I refreshed the page a few more times.  Still messed up.  The stats page was still open, so I refreshed that too.  19 reads!  Wow!  This was unbelieva---  .... wait... I was using Firefox...  Did you know that when you view your own page it inflates your stats like creating imaginary friends boosts your number of facebook friends to astronomical levels?  Well it does.  Bummer for me.  Guess I'll write about the dog next.

Seriously though, I wanted to know all the ins and outs of this whole Blogdom right away, and I wanted it to be easy.  Some of it is, some of it's not.  I still can't figure out how to post/share to fb correctly, and if someone can help me, I'll send you a scarf.  :)  I couldn't get the comments to work, and I don't know what a favicon is.  Not even sure if that's how you spell it.  In my frustration, I suddenly saw a great teaching moment for myself.  Like everything else in life, easy isn't always part of the plan.  Does that make it less worth it?  No way.  It's worth it to me to just know that I have followed through with something, and I'm glad that my girls are already thinking of great stories they want me to tell.

The teacher in me loves to turn everything into an analogy or an example, so I think this captures what I'm trying to say.  I want to grow my seed of a blog into a tree -- our school logo is a tree -- and even if I inadvertently water it with my own editing, I'm happy with that.

Tubbs McFatty and the Pink Paint: Part 2

As I made my way to see what the "pink paint" really was and where it was, I felt like one of those people who enter a dark house in a horror movie and creep down the hallway without turning the lights on.  Sure enough, there were paw prints everywhere, and it wasn't paint, much to my daughters' confusion.  My thoughts swirled, and I instantly realized what had happened.  Now what was I going to do?  When she was getting out of the closet in a hurried fashion (because I yelled at her and now I felt bad), Bella had managed to knock the fish vase off of the shelf, and it more or less exploded between the door and the wall.  She then landed on the shards of broken glass, cut her foot badly, and ran around the house trying to find the best "cozy spot" to get comfortable.  Blood was everywhere. 

I need to pause here and let you know that I'm not real strong with emergencies.  Particularly if blood is involved.  Although, this was before I was CPR/First Aid certified, so I like to think I've improved.  Still, if you have an emergency, I've got about 9 people I'll send to you first.  :)
Somehow, within 5 minutes, I had both girls and a hemorrhaging cat in the car.  I managed to get the girls to early morning care, then I walked into devotions to let my coworkers know why I had blood all over me and asked for help covering my class while I went to the vet.  (I work at the Christian school my girls attend, but more on that later.)  I didn't know exactly what I was going to do, but in the words of a friend of mine, I knew "it wasn't going to end well."  I tried to talk Bella out of dying, and called the vet she used to go to so they could tell me where to take her. 

At 8:10 am, the first customers of the day walked into Needham Animal Hospital, looking every bit as distressed as we felt.  We were quickly taken to an exam room and I explained what happened.  I told the tech that things would go better for everyone if they allowed me to assist since Bella wasn't what one would call "cooperative".  I told him she wouldn't bite and being declawed, couldn't scratch, and urged him to be prepared for the blood-curdling screams, shrieking, and other general nonsense that she'd use to appear fierce.  As he and I were preparing to assess the wound, sure enough, it started.  We looked at each other and at her, but we could handle it.  If there was an award for feline dramatic flair, she would win.  I SO called it.  However, what I wasn't prepared for was the vet bursting through the door and yelling, "Drop it!  Let it go!  You don't know what it'll do!!  Let it GO!" 

Next thing I knew, I was sitting on the floor, the tech was halfway out of the door, and the bleeding cat with the sliced foot was under a chair.  Not sure what had just happened, I coaxed her back out, realized I hadn't sufficiently warned the rest of the staff-- and greater Wilmington-- and he went for back up.  He was gone for a few minutes, then came back with the vet who had yelled at us, and she explained the unfortunate mixup.  A couple had brought in a cat that had been hit by a car, and when she heard the scream, she thought it was that cat.  Not knowing if it had rabies, she wanted to warn us that "our" cat could be dangerous.  Turns out, that cat sadly died right after it got there, so the screamer was none other than mine.  And I knew, we all did, that to get anywhere with her, she'd have to go in the aquarium -- a fish tank with a lid connected to a tube of whatever gas that anesthetizes cats -- and then have surgery.  They assured me they'd take great care of her (they did!) and I told her I'd see her in a little while.

I left, changed, and went to work.  The rest of the day was uneventful, and after work, the girls and I went to pick up our patient.  The injury to her foot had been pretty severe, and although they were able to repair the tendon, they said one of her toes might stick out some.  She did well during her surgery, and I took home a tired, hungry, rather subdued cat.  As I cleaned up the mess that afternoon, I realized that I had done what I never would've thought I could do.  If someone would've told me I'd have to do all that, and do it alone, I'd laugh.  Actually, I wouldn't laugh.  I'd say no.  Then worry a little.  But the truth is, God was with me each step.  He provided what I needed as I needed it.  She healed fine, and her gimpy toe doesn't cause her a bit of trouble.  I don't keep glass sculptures of any kind in the closet anymore, and although I hate that she got hurt, I'm glad I was able to be brave for her, even for a little bit.  There are so many things about Bella and all my pets that I love, enough to convince anyone I'm "one of those people", but I won't write them all here.  I will just say that I think pets teach us and show us things we wouldn't otherwise see and learn.  Occasionally, they write in "paint".

Bella "supervising" the writing of this post.