Month: February 2019

What does love look like at your home?

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I know it’s an odd question for many, and the picture below might confuse you a bit, but I hope I’ve got your attention.

When answering my question, many of you probably think of lovers kissing, a couple holding hands while taking a leisurely walk, or exuberant hugs from little children. Others of you probably think of diamond rings, beautiful weddings, and watching a movie while snuggled on the couch with a loved one. For me, I have a pretty different view of love.

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Notice the glove?!?

Friday, February 22, was the 22nd anniversary of my first date with my wife Amy. It was a crazy day. We were getting together for coffee to talk about youth ministry (honest!). That was all the 1-hour meeting over a cup of joe was supposed to contain. Then God intervened when a mutual friend changed both our expectations of the appointment – just 20 hours before it was set to take place. A 1-hour coffee meeting turned into an almost 13-hour date (complete with flowers, a movie, and 2 meals). I’m waiting to hear if it breaks the Guinness Book record as the longest first date!

Shortly after picking Amy up for the date, I recognized things felt different than any other first date I had ever had. In college, when preparing for a first date, my stomach was in so many knots, food never stayed long in my stomach. This time was very different. By the end of lunch (a 5-hour event because we’d lost track of time), I knew I’d found the love of my life. We’d been talking every night for the 3 weeks prior, so I already had an inkling on my way into Applebees.

For the next 19 years, I held Amy’s hand, brushed hair from her face before kissing her, and washed the dishes. Yes! I washed dishes because I loved my wife. Amy had sensitive skin that broke out with horrible eczema if her hands were submerged in water for long. So, because I loved her, I washed dishes (until my kids needed to learn how to do this chore).

Shortly after we were married, Amy wanted to take a cake decorating class. Then she wanted to take a “Stamping It Up” class. Then she wanted to take a Creative Memories class. We did them all together. Did I really want to do those things? Eh. Did I want to do them with Amy? YES! She made those classes fun. We had a blast together. I got to spend time with her and learned some wonderful skills that I now get to pass on to my kids…her kids.

Many years ago, it was popular in the church to find your “Love Language”. Since then, it’s become a trend outside the church as well. Amy’s love language was Gifts, followed closely by Time. When I found out, I was mortified. We were living on a Christian school teacher’s salary. Every penny was accounted for before the check was cashed. I didn’t know how I would ever be able to afford to give Amy gifts. Amy saw the terror unveiling across my face at that couple’s retreat.

“You have given me so many gifts already, Thom,” she whispered. “You gave me this,” she said, pointing to her wedding ring. “You gave me a beautiful baby boy.” Our oldest was only 6 months old at the time. “And you wash the dishes every day.” The last one puzzled me, but she didn’t explain; she just turned around and continued listening to the speaker. It took God many years to help me understand… and accept that my dishwashing was a gift, a real gift.

With Valentine’s Day not so long past, and the 22nd anniversary of our 1st date just days ago, the question “What does love look like in our home now?” has been playing in my head. Maybe it’s because I miss her. Maybe it’s because I got used to giving Amy gifts and spending time with her. Maybe it’s because I’m finally on the other side of the heart-crushing pain of loss.

When thinking of dinner two nights ago, I thought of Amy. What would she have made for dinner? Then I remembered, they loved her spaghetti, but because of my allergy to tomatoes, my boys don’t get to eat it often. Take a gander at the pic. See the purple glove? What you can’t see are the long sleeves pulled down with the gloves pulled up over the cuffs. It was fun. The hardest part was not tasting my creation. Isaiah was happy to taste it for me when he got home. It needed a little more salt and pepper.

I made enough for the boys to have 3 different dinners of spaghetti. They didn’t jump up and down when they ate it, but their plates were empty in minutes…no complaints. I call that a win.

So, what does love look like at your house? In mine, it’s washing dishes, homemade gifts, and making spaghetti.

 

…a little cleaner inside and out

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Last weekend I was violently awakened by the pounding on my bedroom door and my middle son screaming, “Dad, the bathroom downstairs is flooding!” I did not descend the stairs in a loving, cheerful manner. It probably resembled a rampaging herd of buffalo. I was barking commands like a Marine drill sergeant, back before the military made them take emotional training courses. It was a war zone when I reached the bathroom. Luckily – which probably had everything to do with God and/or my guardian angel and nothing to do with luck – I reached the bathroom before the icky water drained into the forced-air vent on the floor. I grabbed the hand towels and barked orders for more resources. Needless to say, it was not fun.

After the flood waters receded, and the floor had been mopped with clean water, I began

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The “cleaned” plunger and holder.

to put things back where they belonged. That’s when I noticed how dirty the plunger holder had become. An odd duality played in my head: 1) guilt for having yelled and used language that would make some sailors proud and 2) the question ‘When was the last time had this plunger and holder had been cleaned?’ Sadly, that question was followed by, ‘Have I ever cleaned the plunger and holder?’ I was mortified by the realization that there were things in my house needing cleaning that had never been cleaned. I turned on the sink to the hottest water possible and grabbed for the strongest cleanser I had.

At some point, while standing at the sink, scrubbing the…ick, wishing I hadn’t let a string of expletives fly while I flew down the stairs, IT hit me: **THINGS** happen (think Forrest Gump). I got the giggles. In the middle of the giggles, I was hit with an epiphany: God loves me, even when I cuss, even when parts of my heart have not been cleaned in a long time, even when I’m coated in feculence… like the plunger and its holder. I don’t know about you, but I struggle with taking a close look at my heart, under God’s guiding light, in order to root out those places that need cleaning. You all probably know that the plunger in your bathroom needs to be cleaned ever so often. Me…I do now; but more importantly, God and I had a long chat, with His light on my heart, a little brighter than before. I’m not perfect, neither am I really knowledgeable about house cleaning, but I’m getting better…and a little cleaner day by day…inside and out.

It’s Time.

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The last “two-candle” candlelight service

December 23, 2018, was an important night for me. I was in the middle of the Candlelight service at my church. I was holding two candles like I’ve done each Christmas Candlelight Service since my wife died. While waiting for the rest of the candles in the room to get lit, I asked God, “Abba, how do we move on into this next year?” It was a prayer I’ve asked many times when a new year is staring down the barrel at me. Usually, I feel God direct me – sometimes immediately, but most times, as the days go on, His plan falls into place. This time was different.

“Put out a candle, Thom.”

It wasn’t audible, but it was distinct. I shook my head. That can’t be right. I’ve been holding on to two candles since Amy died, to honor her. I’m sure that wasn’t God. 

“Yes, Thom, it’s me. I said, put out a candle. It’s time.”

Not wanting to give myself time to talk me out of God’s directive, I licked my forefinger and thumb and pinched out the flame. There was a finality to it. I immediately felt a difference, as if something tangible inside of me happened when I snuffed out the flame.

I remember shaking my head slightly, looking down at my hand that held a lit candle and a used candle. I wasn’t sobbing. I was at peace.

“It’s time.”

There is a lot of meaning in those two words. I’m wondering what all God has in mind, but He didn’t take long to start me down the path of change.

A few days later, I was asking my sons’ counselors about the process of redecorating the house. I’ve been very antsy about helping my boys and me move out of the season of grief caused by the daily reminder of loss.

“It’s high time for a Bachelor Pad,” one of the counselors said. “Don’t do it all in one weekend, but be intentional. Have a box ready to store things you and your boys do not want to give away. Put the things of Amy’s in the box that you all want to keep, but that really don’t have a place in a bachelor pad. Put the box somewhere safe so everyone can go check on it when he needs to make sure Mom’s things are still there. Then put the lid back on the box and put it away. Tackle one room at a time. It’s time.” The other counselor agreed and said something similar. She too ended with “It’s time.” I felt confirmation in the continued reminder.

One week after the candlelight service, I was talking with some close family friends. I filled them in on God’s directive and told them I was praying the boys’ transition would be positive, even if it was painful. A week later my phone rang. One of the same friends I’d been talking to was on the other end.

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Out with the old… (complete with 2 dressers, an armoire, and 2 side table dressers)

“Thom, my mom’s getting rid of her solid oak bedroom set. I sent you an email with pictures. Check it out and let me know if you’re interested.” I opened the email to look at the pictures. I was overwhelmed. The bedroom set I’d been using was the one Amy and I purchased two weeks before we got married. Climbing into it each night brought with it a sense of loss, a reminder that I would wake up alone in the morning. I’d been wanting to purchase a new set, but knew it would be too costly. I was trying to figure out how to purchase a new set, but God had a different plan.

When the arrangements were made for the new bed to arrive, I offhandedly asked another friend of the family if she knew of anyone who might need a bedroom set. She did. It was another confirmation of God’s divine plan. The following Saturday morning, the new bedroom set arrived after the old one had been brought downstairs. Two hours later, a packed U-Haul left my home on its way to bless someone God wanted to bless. I slept soundly that night for the first time in years.

had no idea God was going to start the “Bachelor Pad Makeover” in my bedroom, but He did. For the last three weeks, I’ve slept in a new sanctuary. Little by little, the rest of the house is changing too. And my boys…they are helping to create the Bachelor Pad.

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In with the new…

Two Sundays ago, one of the pastors at my church said, “God is never late, but he sure does miss many opportunities to be early.” I remember chuckling, thinking about my impatience, but tonight, I realized that I’d rather be in God’s timing than mine. If it had been up to me, I’d be making payments on a new bedroom set for the next three to five years, struggling to figure out how it would all work out financially. The next time I’m impatient, I pray I remember to be patient and listen for “It’s time” from on high. God’s timing is truly perfect.