Fridays With Laurel

Fridays are my day off.  At least, as long as there is not a wedding or a funeral or an emergency of some kind in the life of the congregation. Until 9 months ago Friday was the day that I would do housework, or yard work, or paint, or go to the beach. Then Laurel Ana was born. Our son and his wife were married right out of college in 2002. They waited awhile but Laurel Ana, born July 7, 2011, was worth waiting for. They live two hours away in San Diego. So every other Friday I get up at 4:30 a.m., leave by 5 a.m.  and drive two hours to arrive in time for Jeff and Jackie to leave for work by 7:30 a.m. I spend the day with Laurel—about nine hours. When my son gets home from work at about 4 p.m. I get in the car and drive two or three hours (rush hour traffic) back to LA. Why do I do this? Most grandmothers understand. I waited nine years for this child. I wrote a book for her titled, I Waited For You So Long. Spending four or five hours driving is a small price to pay to spend Fridays with Laurel. What makes me do this?

I want to know her and I want her to know me. I want to have a relationship with her. There is no guarantee that she will always lives close enough for me to spend Fridays with her.  As long as I am able I will invest the time. She has just begun to reach for me when she wants me to pick her up. Oh, how I love it when she reaches for me.  I can’t imagine what it is going to feel like the first time she says my name. You will probably hear the squeal of delight all the way from San Diego when it happens.

I want to teach her and I want her to teach me. I learned so much from raising my own three children. I know that they learned a lot from me. I am older and wiser now  (sorry kids!) and have so much to tell her and show her but I also want to keep on learning. Laurel is teaching me. Watching Laurel learn reminds me of the sheer wonder of ordinary life—the simple joys. Sights and sounds, and shapes and flavors are all fresh discoveries for Laurel. I can teach her what they are called, but she is reminding me of the simple yet amazing wonders of every day life.

It is a joy hard to describe to watch your child parent a child. He does it so well. To see the devotion and love and to watch him teach her and love her is sheer joy. I get there early enough and stay just long enough on Fridays to see a little of this. It, too, is well worth the drive.

Spending Fridays with Laurel has made me reflect on my relationship with God. Having a relationship with God also requires a commitment of time. Just like I set aside Fridays for Laurel, I need to set aside a time to be with God—reading scripture, praying, and reflecting on my life. I want to know God. The bible and prayer helps me learn more about God and I also discover how well God knows me! If it is a real relationship knowing goes both ways.

Spending time with God in bible study or prayer always teaches me. I have been doing this for almost 50 years—spending time with God—and yet I continue to learn. Sometimes I learn new things, but often I am relearning old lessons or making adjustments to what I thought I already knew! And one of the greatest joys in knowing God is watching him work in the lives of others that you have had the privilege of teaching about him.

I love Laurel so much! But I know the heavenly father loves us, his children, much more than that and more than we can ever imagine. Knowing this, I can’t help but wonder if it brings deep joy to the Father when we reach for him and when we call out his name. Fridays with Laurel is sheer pleasure and will help to build a treasured relationship with her as long as I live. Any time with God is a pleasure and will build a relationship with God that will last forever.

There is no right way or perfect time. Each of us must find a way to spend time with God. Mornings and journaling are key for me in spending time with God. Don’t compare yourself to anyone else. Find the time and way that works for you. Even sporadic is better than not at all. Take time regularly or whenever you can. Invest. The Heavenly Father is always waiting for you to reach for him! What is the key to your spending time with God?

Thinking About People Who Don't Think Much

There was a week at the beginning of this year when I seemed to have run into a herd of unthinking folks. It was a week when I definitely felt like I was going against the flow. It seemed like every time I got in to a conversation with anyone beyond the polite greetings and niceties, I was hearing things from their mouths I could hardly believe. The discussions were many and varied—in depth and length—but they all had one thing in common. It sounded like these folks were on automatic pilot, repeating stock phrases and opinions, and in some cases, prejudices and bigotries that have been disproved long ago. I was stunned not at encountering unthinking people, but at how many people like this there are! It made me wonder if I was living in a different universe, or perhaps, had lost touch with reality and needed to admit myself to a hospital for observation. It made me feel crazy!

Part of this is due to it being an election year. Opinions and facts that are polar opposites abound during these times. Conversations are characterized by either-or thinking, and ideology has a good slice of prime time in media. Thoughtfulness does not make for good sound bytes. However, I am still stunned at how often this kind of thinking quickly pushes into attributing motives and character (or lack thereof) to people we really do not know. But I have always been taught and continue to believe that for people of faith, people of the BOOK, conversation and dialogue ought to be different. And our view of others ought to be filled with grace, not suspicion and condemnation. According to scripture and the example of Christ himself, encounters with others first and foremost are to be characterized by humility and respect. This is not to suggest that we should pretend we don’t know things we really know, a false sort of humility. But in a God-centered universe, with a Christ-centered theology, and a spirit-centered life, we begin by acknowledging that we don’t understand everything clearly or perfectly. And, that only God knows the heart of another. For those professing to be followers of Jesus Christ, Philippians 2 makes it pretty clear. We begin with the other in mind. We begin with being open to the other, not to simply set them straight, but to hear them, listen to them, learn from them and value them. Imagine how different many of our conversations would be if all people in a conversation approached it this way.

The unthinking character of a lot of conversations is colorfully exposed by our new social media. The internet has become a quick and convenient way to share information and express opinion. Frequently, this is done without checking the facts. Thanks to Snopes a person can check an internet story or fact before posting or passing it on. The problem is few do this, and within minutes a story or fact without any merit can spread like wildfire. Then, it is repeated in conversations. Snopes reveals that not only are some of these stories not true, they are old! They have been circulated previously and somehow found their way back in circulation again. And, again, in this medium it quickly degenerates to name-calling and character assassination.

One internet sharing experience I had during this week of thoughtless encounters demonstrates just how committed we can become to these stores and opinions without truth or merit. I had received an email with a gut-wrenching story about wounded veterans complete with pictures. My father was a POW in WWII so I get hooked very easily on these babies! I posted the story without checking Snopes. Then someone suggested I check. Sure enough, there was absolutely no basis for the story and the facts accompanying it. So, with my internet tail between my legs, I posted an apology, especially for tugging at people’s heartstrings on such a very important issue without checking first. I confessed my weakness for all things military veteran and promised to be more diligent in the future. To my utter amazement, I received an email from a person who, so committed to the ideology and message of the story, questioned the veracity of Snopes! I was dumbfounded. Now, before anyone comes after me again, I realize that Snopes is not perfect either, and is capable of error. They are billed as “the definitive internet reference source for urban legends, folklore, myths, rumors, and misinformation on their own website. However, they consistently give the source of their fact-finding to encourage users to pursue the truth on their own, and they regularly advise users when there is any uncertainty or limitation in their source work. According to Wikipedia, Fact Check reviewed a sample of Snopes’ responses to political rumors regarding George W. Bush, Sarah Palin, and Barack Obama and found them to be free from bias in all cases. In other words, they are equal opportunity debunkers.

Anyway, back to unthinking people. There are those who do not want to be confused with the facts. They hold so dearly certain opinions and feel so deeply about certain issues that they seem unable to even imagine there could be another credible view. And like automatons, they perpetuate urban legends myths, and stereotypes with no intention of ever examining them. “Autopilot living” I call it. A woman walked up to my daughter at church one Sunday and said to her, “So, how do you like Califronia?” My daughter replied, “I like it a lot.” The woman continued the interview, “Even with all the Mexicans?” My daughter was dumbfounded, unable to speak, let alone respond, and totally caught off guard by this not very thinly veiled bigotry. She was in church after all and regardless of one’s view of politics or even immigration, such a stereotypic and unkind statement about an entire population seemed entirely out of place. These unthinking people go about life with the incredibly arrogant idea that they are right about everything, and consequently, everyone of any reputation certainly must agree with them. Very bad assumption. One only has to live with one other person for any length of time to know this is not the case.

So, I have been thinking about unthinking people. The one thing I know for sure is that I do not want to become one of them. From encountering them so often, I have this sense that it is easyto become one and not know it. So…this is an all out unqualified plea—don’t let me!

Do you have any thoughtless thoughts to share from your recent conversations? I would love to hear them so as to avoid sounding anything like it anytime soon.

Baptism in ICU

The call came from the chaplain of a local hospital. A female patient in her seventies in ICU, likely in her final days, wanted to be baptized. The chaplain’s faith tradition only allowed for baptism by immersion. He called me knowing that my tradition allowed sprinkling. Would I be willing to perform the baptism? Wow! A lot of questions flooded my mind.

I agreed to visit the woman and her family at the hospital that afternoon and talk to them, and from that to determine if it was something I could do. Paramount among all the questions running through my mind was the primary question for all followers of Christ, not just pastors—is this something God is calling me to do?

Somewhere in all the questions swirling in my heart and mind I remembered a story I had heard many years ago about a pastor in Paris being asked by Camus if he would baptize him. Yes, Albert Camus, the famous existentialist philosopher and atheist, in a private conversation asked Howard Mumma, a Methodist minister, if he would baptize him. The pastor and Camus had talked about faith and Christianity through the course of several summers when Mumma served as guest pastor at the American Church in Paris. Camus came to a place where he said, “I am ready, I want this.” “This” being forgiveness of sin and the promise of eternal life and the symbol of baptism to mark it. Mumma, though thrilled with Camus’ expression of faith, had a problem. Camus did not want to be baptized publicly. He wanted it to be a private affair between him and the pastor. Mumma explained this was not possible, that baptism, besides being a symbol of personal faith, was equally an act of becoming part of the company of believers—the church. Camus was not ready to embrace this. He did not want the church. He wanted salvation and baptism.

In his book, Albert Camus and the Minister, Mumma describes the agony of this dilemma he faced. But his conscience would not allow him to baptize Camus privately, and Camus insisted it be only between him and the minister. Mumma declined to do so but encouraged Camus to continue his studies and his journey of faith. Mumma returned to America and assured Camus that they would talk again when he returned to France the next year. Tragedy struck. Camus was killed in a car accident before Mumma returned.

Mumma now had to revisit his response to Camus’ request. You can read all about it in his book. But this is the story that immediately came to mind when I received the call to baptize this woman in ICU. What did I need to know and do in order to, in good conscience and in keeping with my ordination vows, be able to say yes to this woman? What was God calling me to do in these circumstances? Of course I had to get to the hospital and find out the circumstances.

I went to the hospital knowing I was entering very sacred space. Hospital rooms always are. (Actually, by God’s omnipresence all space is sacred. But we are not always aware of it or attentive to it. It is hard not to be attentive to the sacred in a hospital room where death is lurking.) The circumstances were complex and formidable. First the woman was on a respirator. She could not talk. While not in pain, she was heavily medicated. Consequently her ability to attend to conversation was very limited. But it was clear that she could hear, and she could understand and respond by nodding her head or closing her eyes. She could only express her faith and her desire to be baptized by these subtle physical cues. Her domestic partner of 26 years was by her bedside along with a sister and a brother-in-law. Her partner explained that this desire to be baptized was a longstanding one. The partner had promised she would help the dying woman find a way to be baptized. How was I to know how much of this “desire” was the dying woman’s to be baptized and how much was her partner’s desire to make good on a promise? As I have had time to think about it more, I am not sure it matters. I asked questions of the family, trying to determine how this dying woman got to the place she was. What had prevented her from being baptized all these years? They explained that the dying woman’s parents were not church goers but had had one of five children baptized. There was the residue of faith somewhere in this woman’s childhood.

I turned my attention to the dying woman. I read a few Scriptures and then talked directly to her again. Did she understand what it means that she is a sinner? She nodded her head. Did she understand that Jesus, out of his great love for her, died for her sin? She nodded her head. Did she understand that she could do nothing to earn this? She was growing tired, I could tell. I had to rouse her and ask her again. Did she understand that she could do nothing to earn this gift of forgiveness and eternal life? She looked right at me, intently, and nodded her head. It was then that I realized, lying in a bed on a respirator in her final days, she probably understood this better than most other people being baptized! And I, like Mumma, had to explain that it was not a private or even a biological family event. It is a communal event, and that in order for me to baptize her with integrity I would need to bring other members of the body of Christ, the church, with me for the baptism. Did she understand this and agree to my bringing some others with me to baptize her? She nodded her head. I also explained to her and the family that I did not have the authority to make the decision to baptize her. I would need to get this from the elders of the church. Thank goodness for email: I would be able to do it the same night.

Finally, I explained to her that baptism was not magic. It did not, by itself, guarantee anything. I explained to her it is the visible sign of an invisible reality. I could provide the visible sign—the water—but it only “worked” in the presence of the invisible reality—faith, the belief in the saving work of Christ on her behalf. And I explained that God alone knew what was in her heart, and it would be his knowledge alone that would save her and provide the forgiveness she needed. This is true for all of us no matter what our condition when we are baptized. I asked her if she understood what I had said? She nodded her head yes.

I left the hospital believing that God, through the hospital chaplain, was calling me to baptize this woman. And I was pretty sure the elders of my church would trust my recommendation and approve. For some reasons this woman’s baptism seemed more akin to the baptism of an infant—she was helpless in so many ways and another adult was speaking for her. The truth of the matter is no matter what age a person is at the time of baptism, and no matter who performs it or how much water is used, in every instance God is doing the work of offering mercy and grace. We are ALL helpless when it comes to salvation. And in every case no one but God really knows the condition of the heart of the person being baptized.

I left the hospital thinking about Camus and Mumma. I have often wondered what I would have done if I had been Camus’ pastor/confidant. I had my own Camus, now, and I was grateful for having heard his story in order to be able to enter this sacred space more aware and open to God’s calling.

Radical Gift Giving: Spending less and Giving More

Thoughtful gifts are just too hard. They take so much time. Especially if you ask for a list from someone, then you can just buy something on their list. It only takes money and a little time. It takes a lot more time to think about a person long enough, and to know them well enough to be able to create a gift for them that cannot be purchased. We don’t have the time. But what if we took the time? What if we really set aside time to think about the people we love and want to give gifts to? It is a risk, I know. But I think it is worth the risk. I am going to try. I will let you know how it turns out. This is what Advent Conspiracy is all about. Here is the link. http://adventconspiracy.org/ Check it out for other ideas. Here is how it works.

Think about a person you want to give a gift and walk through their day or week. What is something you can do for them or make or provide for them that you cannot just buy. Listen to the people you love. Giving thoughtful gifts requires knowing what their days and weeks are made of. My mother has a lot of friends in the senior campus where she lives. There is little that she needs in the way of things. But she loves to encourage people and she is a letter and note writer. I am going to make her some cards and stationary and put something on the stationary that is very personal. I do not know what that is yet, but I am going to think about it. Then I will frame one of the cards and give it to her as a reminder of the gift.

I have a friend who has just about everything. She can afford to buy just about anything she wants or needs. What can I possibly give her? She just lost her father last April. I am going to use a picture I have of him and make a collage of some kind using the picture and words that I know describe the kind of father he was. I don’t know if this will turn out. But I am going to try.

The staff at my church has talked. We have agreed that this year we will not buy each other gifts that we really do not need. Instead we are going to pool the money we would have spent on each other and give it to some good cause that we all agree on and can be excited about. We will still celebrate a Christmas lunch together (but maybe drink only water and donate the saved amount toward our Advent Conspiracy offering!) but we will not exchange gifts this year. We will share the gift of giving to others. I think this will be wonderful team building.

It is not too late. Take the time. Give a gift of thoughtfulness. Give a gift of time. Give a gift that cannot be purchased. And then, if you have the heart, give the amount of money you saved as a gift to those really in need. Organizations like World Vision allow you to buy something in honor of someone. Here is the link to their Christmas catalog. http://www.worldvision.org/content.nsf/pages/gift-catalog-display-search-holidays?Open&datcode=goat&campaign=10983212&cmp=BAC-10983212 The last few years I have given animals in honor of my mom. I gave some chickens in honor of her last year. These chickens (about $40) can provide income and food for a family long after Christmas gift giving is done. I gave art supplies to a child in honor of my daugther who is an artist. I gave vaccinations to a child in honor of my daughter-in-law who is a scientist. There are endless possibilities that are both generous to others, but personal to the recipient.

The Advent Conspiracy folks inspired our congregation to be more thoughtful about Christmas time spending. Since the beginning of November whenever I have been out and about and inclined to spend money on something I really do not need—a chocolate caramel macchiato ($3.95), or another sweater or shirt ($40)—I have committed to going home instead and putting the same amount I would have spent in an envelope for our church’s Christmas Eve offering. Fifty percent of that offering will go to our church benevolence fund to help people in real need, and the other fifty percent will go to provide fresh water for children in Africa. Check out www.water.org, one of many non-profits providing clean water wells.

As of December first I have about $90 in my little envelope! I am already thinking about the need to carry this commitment throughout the year! What would happen if we all began to take this kind of thoughtful spending/giving seriously? What might God do in us through this kind of giving? I will let you know after the first of the year!

What ideas do you have or organizations do you know about to help make Christmas more about generosity and thoughtful giving and less about spending? Share a comment or give a link below!

Lenses for Life

When the proof came I could not put it down. I was holding in my hands the result of an intensive labor of love. Twenty years of labor to be exact. Well, there was a several years hiatus in there somewhere. The labor slowed way down when I began ordained ministry full time in 1996 and then it came to a painful screeching halt when Dad was diagnosed with Alzheimers disease in 1999. We lost him in 2006. But the labor began again in earnest in the spring of 2009 when I began painting his story and preparing to travel to the places he was held prisoner in the Philippine Islands and Japan during WWII, which I did in February through April 2010. From fall 2009 until Spring 2011 almost every spare minute was taken up in writing and rewriting the story. It consumed me.

It started out as an attempt to record my father’s WWII POW story for the sake of our family. I did not want it to be forgotten. It ended up a very personal journey. As I studied, and read, and traveled, and reflected, it became increasingly apparent just how much my father’s experience had shaped me. So much of who I am and what I do echoes my father’s life.

I was not much interested in the kitchen or cooking. I was fascinated with tools and spent most of my time in the garage or outside with my father. I knew what a crescent wrench was long before I knew what a spatula was. I crawled up on the fender of the car and watched my father fix engines. I loved to be with him and I loved to be up high so I was driving nails on the roof long before I ever baked my first cake. To this day I do not know if my attraction was primarily to be with my dad wherever he was or if it was to mechanical and outdoor tasks. I just know that I was with him a lot and I learned so many practical skills. What I did not realize until much later in life was that I also acquired my worldview from him. I saw the world through the lenses my father wore—not physical lenses, but the lenses of his experience as a young man captured and made a prisoner of war just after his 21^st birthday. He suffered and survived three and a half years of deprivation and unspeakable brutality.

Yet, the lenses my father gave me allowed me to see a world filled with possibilities rather than a world filled with obstacles. Somehow, though poor, and small, and average in almost every way, my father helped me see a world where I could do anything I set my heart and mind to do. The lenses my father gave me allowed me to smile through life’s ups and downs. He saw the good in everything and everyone. My father helped me to see faith in God as the best lense of all to see the world and others clearly. My worldview was shaped by a man who had survived unspeakable brutality and had escaped death over and over again as a result of these lenses. I learned to see the world and myself through them and as a result am an optimistic, determined (stubborn?), hopeful, God-dependant person.

The book about my father’s story and how it shaped me is available on Amazon (link below) in black and white ($14.99) and a color edition ($30.00). It is a very personal story, but it is also a national story. Men like my father who survived and came home from WWII continued to sacrifice and serve in order to build the life and nation that subsequent generations often take for granted. When my copy of the final book arrives I think I will not be able to put it down. I think I will sleep with it. It is a labor of love. I hope all who read it will think about those who have positively shaped their own lives—given them lenses with which to see the world and themselves as filled with possibilities, full of goodness, and because of faith, full of hope.

When I blogged about my personal journey discovering how much my father’s experienced shaped me, friends who read it encouraged me to write it for a wider audience. I have. If you or someone you know are part of that wider audience who might benefit from a read you can order it from Amazon.

JUST IN TIME FOR CHRISTMAS, FORGED BY WAR: A DAUGHTER SHAPED BY A WWII POW STORY.

http://www.amazon.com/Forged-War-Daughter-Shaped-Story/dp/146799149X/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1322626305&sr=1-1

Technology that is Personal?

After twenty years, some of which I was more actively engaged than others, I am very close to publishing a book about my dad’s experience as a POW in WWII and how it shaped me as a person and a pastor. My father died in 2006. His mother, my grandmother, died when I was a young child. And yet the book I am about to publish has my grandmother’s handwriting on the cover. How can this be? The wonder of modern computer graphics! My daughter Anne, who is a graphic artist, designed the cover of my book. I knew she would make it creative and beautiful. I didn't know it would be so extraordinarily personal.

In writing my dad’s story my mother gave me all sorts of materials related to his time as a prisoner of war. Among the artifacts were several telegrams that were sent to my father while he was a prisoner of war in Japan. He didn't receive any of them. They were returned “undeliverable.” At some point after my father was liberated and returned to the United States, my grandmother gave him the telegrams. My mother passed them on to me. I gave all of the documents and photographs to my daughter to scan in order to put them in the book. When I asked her if she would design the cover, the only thing I requested was that she include on the cover a picture of my dad holding me when I was a young child. The rest was up to her. What she did was stunning, and when I first saw it, it brought me to tears.

The front cover background is one of the telegrams with the government stamp with the date Dec 1945 clearly displayed. The closure flap of the telegram is also visible along with the government instructions for delivery. Though technology can be a menace at times, in this case it was a creative gift. The electronic scan of the inside of the telegram allowed my daughter to capture my grandmother’s handwriting one letter at a time. Then she used those letters for the title of the book and my name. The effect is stunning. Stunning because the use of the telegram and it’s written message makes the cover of the book a literal peek into that period of history. Stunning because the story is about how our parents' life experiences shapes us. My father’s mother is part of this string of life-shaping history. Her actual handwriting on the cover of the book is a remarkable testimony to this fact.

The back of the book also employs creative use of technology. My daughter was able to find a picture of the skin of aircraft panels online and use them for the background. This whole area of computer technology amazes me. I have no idea how it works, but it certainly is changing the way we are able to communicate in all sorts of mediums. In this case, for good; it visually communicates the book’s story. History shapes us and especially as it is absorbed through our significant relationships.

When history is communicated as story, it elicits images that can make it very compelling and very personal. Thinking about the power of the cover of my book got me thinking about the gospel. We have artifacts but we do not have actual pictures of Jesus and his time. We have the written story told meticulously from at least four angles in the Gospels. But the “images” of the gospel that bring the story to life and give it authenticity are the people whose lives have been shaped and transformed by the story of Jesus. His life and death and resurrection--the gospel--has shaped their lives. Their stories are the pictures and images of the life shaping-power of Jesus. Like my father’s story, the telegram, and my grandmother’s handwriting, the “images” of people whose lives have been shaped by the gospel story are what make the story so compelling and so personal.

· A man imprisoned for serious and violent crimes encounters the gospel while in prison and is transformed. A serious student of the Bible while still in prison, when he is released he becomes part of a local church and is a dedicated follower of Christ, serving and ministering to the power of the gospel.

· A woman imprisoned by drugs for most of her life and in and out of jail for related crimes had her children taken away two times. After a third time she began recovery. This time she encountered the living Christ in the gospel message and has turned her life around. Now sober four years she has regained custody of her three children. She has completed a certificate program in dental hygiene and is partnering to assist other parents regaining custody of their children. She too is a serving and contributing member of the local congregation, inspiring others to be shaped by Christ.

· A woman abused as a child and in unspeakable slavery to evil for almost thirty years is told by her Jewish psychiatrist that it's a miracle she is even alive. The scars and pain of her early years will never be forgotten. Three Christmases ago she stumbled into an Advent service and began to encounter the Christ of the gospel. She continues in therapy, but her life is now being shaped by the love of Christ and the love of his people who have surrounded her and taught her what love and trust really looks like. She, in turn, is helping to shape the Christian community as she gives her time and talents as an artist to a program for children after school and as a deacon serving others.

All these are stunning examples of the shaping of people’s lives by the gospel of Jesus Christ. They are pieces of history, images that display in living color the power of the gospel story. These lives, like the font of my grandmother’s handwriting, are being lifted up for all the community to see and know that Jesus is alive and shaping lives for eternity. This too is stunning and brings me to tears.

Newlyweds 36 Years Later

There we stood. Side by side in front of the bathroom mirror. In our underwear. Brushing out teeth. If it were not for my husband’s more reserved nature and the potential for Internet misuse (not to mention basic Christian modesty) it would have made a great picture for this post.

As I stood there brushing my teeth, I realized this is marital bliss thirty-six years later. This is true romance at the deepest level. Two people so comfortable with each other that mundane daily routines are causes for deep affection. Thirty-six years ago we could never have envisioned we would be standing here like this. Well, we certainly hoped we would be together thirty-six years later, but young love never contemplates the body thirty-six years later. Never could imagine all the miles and all the experiences shared along the way.

I had just finished a session of premarital counseling the day before. I could not help but wish I could have shown them this picture. This young couple is pretty exceptional. They understand, at least intellectually, that marriage is not primarily about romance and that the ideal peddled in movies and songs is a complete sham. But can they really understand how much marriage is about everyday sharing of things like brushing your teeth? After years of being frustrated by Christian books about marriage (I always had to disclaim two or three chapters) I have finally found an excellent one for modern young couples biblically sound and in touch with reality. It is Are You Waiting for the One? by Margaret Kim Peterson and Dwight N. Peterson, published by InterVarsity Press. I highly recommend it. In fact, I am going to recommend that our church’s student ministries program use it for our teens. The message of the book is epitomized in this statement. “Marriage is a school for character. . . an arena in which we can practice the art of faithfully bearing with one another in the midst of all that life brings.”

Further, the Peterson’s offer a very helpful alternative to the often polarizing choices of headship (where the man holds the power) and egalitarianism (where power is equally distributed). They offer the metaphor of teamwork, mutual “cooperation that relies on each other’s strengths and covers for each other’s weaknesses.” No matter what a couple calls their relationship, the reality of everyday life is lived out through teamwork more often than anything else. This is what I saw in the reflection in the mirror that morning—thirty six years of cooperation, teamwork.

Back to the bathroom mirror picture . . . Both my husband and I are in fairly good shape so with the range of possibilities the reflection wasn’t so bad. But it was the simplicity of the reflection in the mirror and all the everyday moments that it represented that got me thinking. Though some authors and some theologians would press husbands and wives into a one-size-fits-all mold, the Petersons’ book was refreshing because it more accurately reveals the reality of what marriage is like. There is no custom mold for marriage. Just as our reflection in the mirror differs from every other couple’s reflection, so the relationship between and husband and a wife differs with every couple. God has created each one of us unique. Two unique individuals joining lives are going to create unique patterns of living together, but always shoulder to should, side by side, navigating one day at a time.

The reflection got me thinking about how very seldom the long-term commitment of two people living very ordinary lives is portrayed in the media. Actually, though many would find fault with some of the material, the television program Modern Family and the marriage of Phil and Claire comes as close as I have seen. Though they are often challenged by cultural expectations of what their marriage should be, they always come to the realization that what it is—comfortable and ordinary but committed and faithful—is really what matters.

The reflection got me thinking. Flowers and gifts are wonderful. Words of kindness and love are precious. Romance is fabulous. But the everyday ordinary acts of faithfulness are the real warp and woof of a marriage that lasts. Taking out the garbage when it stinks, doing a load of laundry when the bin is overflowing, emptying the dishwasher, working in the yard, filling my car with gas when I have not even noticed it is close to empty, reminding me (forgetful as I am) to close the windows on my car, faithfully (and without complaint) waiting for me when one more meeting goes longer than I anticipated, a new tube of toothpaste appearing in my basket when the last one is squeezed to death—all of these are expressions of affection and commitment that are not glamorous but, like our reflections in the mirror they are who we are and what much of life is made up of. The simple things year after year add up to profound trust and deep comfort.

I will not be able to show to the young couple I am counseling the picture of us standing side by side brushing our teeth in our underwear. But I will talk with them about these things—reflections of love that last a lifetime. I can only hope and pray that thirty-six years from now they will be standing side by side brushing their teeth and looking in the mirror, too, and giving thanks for a marriage that is built on love that is demonstrated through the simple, every day acts of sharing life together, side by side.