Man Can Make His Plans

Jun20

So, we have all these great plans in place for our summer odyssey across the United States. The impetus is seeing my 94-year-old great aunt in California while we still can. Then my niece decided to get married in July in Washington state. So, while we’re in the area, we decided to head on up there for that great event. Then, since we were up there, we decided to head home via the northern route to see some friends we hadn’t seen in a really long time because they live in faraway states. We threw in some national parks (The Grand Canyon, Yellowstone, Mt. Rushmore) and the San Diego Zoo, while we also “in the area.” (That’s one BIG area, I’m thinkin’.) David determined it was something like 8,000 miles. But Justin will be heading off to college in just a few years, so we figure this might be our last chance to take a family trip like this. It’s all about making memories.

It’s exciting. It’s exhausting. It’s fun. And we pray it all goes smoothly. (Look for my blog posts along the way.)

There’s a statement I’ve heard that always amuses me: Man makes his plans, and God laughs.

The Bible says it another way: “In his heart a man plans his course, but the LORD determines his steps” (Proverbs 16:9).

We leave in 12 days. I can hear God’s chuckle now.

Thankful today for:

384. a nice van

385. Berkeley being beyond the puppy stage

386. chick flicks with friends

387. prescription sunglasses

388. a cooler June so far

389. the grocery shopping being done

390. breakfast

391. coupons

392. rootbeer


Dear Dad

Jun17

My dad is no longer with us, but I thought I would write him a letter on Father’s Day. Ever since I had kids of my own, my Father’s Day focus has been on my kids’ dad rather than my own, and there’s just something not quite right about that. So even though he’s not here to read it, I wanted to tell him a few things.

Dear Dad,

I can imagine what it was like for you, having 3 kids in 4 years–and another one 7 years later. We pretty much had to be your focus. But I know that you loved to drive your Porsche, and you loved to fly, and you loved to sail, and you loved to take pictures. You were an ardent Cal football fan, and you transferred that love to your kids. I remember being at the Big Game, when the Stanford band ran out on the field before the final whistle and Cal had the ball and there were something like three or four laterals and finally a touchdown by the Bears! That was so exciting! I’m glad I got to be there with you for that one.

Remember when you took me camping with Paul and the Boy Scouts? Luckily we had our pop-up camper, and I didn’t have to sleep in a tent. I go camping with my family now. I bet it started with you.

The smell of pine trees still brings back memories of our Lake Tahoe vacations. Those were such great times with Grandma and Grandpa Allan. I loved that house we rented. Thanks for planning those, and our week on Balboa Island. That is still one of my very favorite places. And one of the best childhood memories I have is our trip to British Columbia. We’re hoping to give our kids great memories like that on our trip across the country this summer.

Remember when you told your friend that I was a good driver and he could trust me to go on a little drive in his Corvette? I appreciated your confidence in me. It was so fun to drive that hot car down Shepherd Canyon Road.

We had fun at the Warriors games you took me to several birthdays when I was in college. I’m not a big basketball fan, but the Warriors are still my favorite team. If they’d quit being perennial celler dwellers, I could get a little more fired up about them.

Remember going to A’s games? I stay up way too late even now watching them from the east coast. Let’s go, Oakland!

I’m pretty sure I got my love of writing from you. Of course, our styles are vastly different: you’re technical, I’m . . . not. But you read my articles in the magazine, and you told me what you thought. I hope you were proud of me.

I remember once when you told someone I was a good singer. That meant a lot.

I remember that you used to like to hunt. That’s something I didn’t get from you.

When I was preparing to buy my first car, I called you for advice. Your love of automobiles runs in my blood a little bit. You suggested I get something practical. I got a convertible instead.

When David called you to ask for my hand in marriage, you gave him advice about marriage. Yours lasted nearly 50 years, so I guess you knew something, right? By the way, thanks for giving him your permission.

I’m sorry that life’s pressures got to be so hard for you in your later years. Job challenges, health challenges. I don’t think you knew how to handle them very well. I wish I had talked to you more about the peace you could find in Jesus. I wish that heart attack hadn’t taken you so suddenly.

Well, I’ll wrap this up for now, but I just wanted to say thanks for being my dad. I have some good memories. I wish you were still here to make more.

See you in heaven.

Love,

Stephanie (aka Blondie)

Thankful today for:

375. my dad

376. my children’s dad

377. fresh paint on my living room walls

378. my kids being old enough to help with the painting

379. choices

380. breakfast

381. a nearby grocery store

382. new marriages

383. old marriages like mine

Perfection

Jun14

I just finished watching a replay of a perfect game thrown by Matt Cain of the San Francisco Giants. A perfect game is an amazing thing to watch, and I’ve been blessed to be able to watch two of them in the last couple of years: one by Dallas Braden of the Oakland Athletics, and this one by Matt Cain. I didn’t know Braden’s was going to happen until it did, because I was watching it live. But I knew Cain’s was going to happen before it did. The atmosphere and the excitement was still there, though. When the fielders step it up just a little bit more to get those difficult outs; when the crowd never sits down for the other team’s half inning; when shots of the pitcher’s family show their extreme anticipation. There’s nothing like it.

It’s even more fun to watch it happen when it’s a team you root for anyway. The A’s are my favorite, but the Giants are a close second.

So why do we all appreciate perfection? Probably because we’re so far from it ourselves. I know for myself, I can’t think of a time when I’ve done anything perfectly. I don’t consider myself a perfectionist, so it doesn’t pain me when I don’t reach it. I have heard that quilters will purposely add a flaw to their work to signify that only God is perfect. I like that. Perfectionism can cause all kinds of problems for people obsessed with it. There’s nothing wrong with wanting to do things well, but when we have to be perfect, we limit ourselves.

Some perfectionists take an amazingly long amount of time to make decisions, because they want to make the perfect decision.

Some perfectionists won’t try to do something because they only want to do what they can do perfectly.

Some perfectionists demand perfection from those around them, and thus they are mostly disappointed.

I like this verse: “He is the Rock, His works are perfect, and all His ways are just. A faithful God who does no wrong, upright and just is He (Deut. 32:4).”

Indeed, only God is perfect.

But Matt Cain was a pretty amazing pitcher last night.

Thankful today for:

369. MLB.tv

370. anticipation

371. desire fulfilled

372. our avocado tree finally bearing fruit–and lots of it!

373. new trash cans 🙂

374. the perfection we will finally achieve in heaven

The Day It All Began

Jun12

We had talked about getting married, but when he actually “popped the question,” I was surprised. I thought we had decided to wait until fall. He didn’t want to leave me wondering while he spent almost two months in the Soviet Union.

I had never had a boyfriend before. At the ripe old age of 28, I was beginning to wonder if it would ever happen. Then I saw him.

It wasn’t love at first sight. He had a beard–I’m not fond of beards. But there was something about his eyes that drew me. He was working in the building next to mine. Soon after I first saw him, he moved in with two of my friends from college. And he shaved his beard. What was handy in the mountains of North Carolina was only irritating in the heat of So. Cal.

We became friends. But that’s all we were. Until it became more. One night after hours of talking, he said to me, “The more time I spend with you, the more I like you.” I’d never had anyone say that to me before. I allowed my heart to hope.

Another day, driving down the highway to pick up something from the office, he grabbed my hand and asked,”What would you think if I did this?” My answer: “I would say that you better not be doing that with any other girl.”

A week, a few weeks, a month (I really can’t remember how long) later, he said, “I don’t want to date anyone but you.”

I had already determined that in my mind long before. Now, it was official. Six months later, on June 12, 1990, he invited me to go up to Arrowhead Springs, the former international headquarters of Campus Crusade for Christ, for a small picnic before he left for the U.S.S.R.

As we sat on the lawn overlooking the smoggy city of San Bernardino, Calif., on a red-checked tablecloth with a book of poetry and a bottle of Martinelli’s sparkling cider, we decided to close our time with a prayer. In the middle of praying, he said, “Hold on a minute, God.” I thought he was getting choked up. Instead, he lifted my chin with his hand. I opened my eyes and looked into his. He had a small black box in his hand. He said something along the lines of, “Will you marry me?” I laughed and said something along the lines of, “Are you serious?” And quickly followed up with something along the lines of, “Yes!”

That was 22 years ago. And I would still say yes today. Even if I knew that everything would stay the same as it has been. It’s not like a do-over. He is God’s gift to me, and I am more than grateful.

Happy engagement anniversary, Hunny! Thanks for asking. 🙂

 

 

 

Thankful today for:

366. My husband

367. Happy memories

368. A sleepover nearly every night for the past 21+ years with my best friend

A 9-Year-Old’s Analogy

Jun11

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The other night while Morgan and I were out on a date in the pouring rain, she gave me this analogy:

Life is like being in the rain; sin and bad things fall on us, but Jesus is the umbrella. He protects us from the bad things and the sin. Without Him, we would get soaked by those things.

Pretty profound for a 9-year-old, right?

Anyone who has been in a Florida thunderstorm knows that when the wind blows, the rain comes in sideways. You still get a bit wet, but not nearly so much as you would without that umbrella.

We who have Christ are not immune from bad things happening to us. We still are touched by sin. But God is our refuge and our strength, a very present help in time of trouble (Psalm 46:1).

Thanks, Morgan

Thankful today for:
357. The smell of candles
358. Fresh melon for breakfast
359. Lake parties my kids love
360. People who have great ideas
361. Nathan’s crazy sense of humor that makes not-so-fun tasks go by more quickly
362. New clothes
363. New mercies every morning
364. Sunshine
365. Shadows