Water My Flowers

You couldn't help but notice her. Courtney was tall...very tall...even without the 5 inch heels she loved to wear.  She confidently towered over all of us women and many of the men.  And trust me, that confidence was warranted.  She was stunningly beautiful.  Elegant.  Wicked smart.  Creative.  A fashion goddess and all around diva, really.  Oh...and strong...she'd be rightfully offended if I left that out.  Maybe I tried to forget that part...I worked so hard to keep up with her on weighted squats one day that I could barely sit and stand for a week!

She majored in Agricultural Biotech (or something brainy like that), then traded career opportunities for motherhood.  She kept a lovely home.  Managed a household of seven. Schooled her own kids.  Hosted fabulous parties. Shot beautiful photos which she developed in her own dark room.  She was a devout Christian, a faithful friend, and remarkably humble in spite of her many gifts.   

A few years ago, though, her internal world began to unravel.  I guess I'll never know for sure what caused the fracture, but circadian and dopamine dysregulation spurred her already intellectual abstract mind into ideations that felt cosmically critical to her.  Her drive to pursue these ideas and capture them for the benefit of humanity was relentless.  I would sit and listen to her for hours on end, trying to navigate the blurred lines between creative genius and mania...between fantasy and reality.  Her ideas were often intellectually challenging and inspiring, forcing me to wrestle with perspectives I hadn't considered.  Sometimes they were outlandishly absurd.  Sometimes they were dark and unsettling.  Sometimes her musings were delivered in person through a torrent of analogies from biology and nature and philosophy and art and theology.  If you didn’t walk away feeling a little bit dumb, you probably weren’t listening! Sometimes they were delivered in the wee hours of the morning through dozens of manifesto-like pages of intricately woven chaos. 

On this journey, she lost everything and nearly everyone. She lost her marriage and family life, her home, her security, safety, and stability, plus many of her friends.  In some ways she lost her dignity.  She was abandoned by some, ridiculed by others.  Some disappeared because it wasn't fun to be around her in the same way, some because it was simply too painful to watch.  Some were hurt and pushed away by her unfiltered words and accusations.  

She left us recently...by her own choice, it seems.  Her absence makes me realize I never really grieved the loss of the first Courtney.  I accepted and moved forward with the changes in her.  With sadness, yes, but I never really grieved all that she had lost and all that I lost of her  healthier self.  When she glided through the world with an irresistible charm, I loved her.  When she limped through the world with an air of tragic vulnerability, I loved her.  I'm grieving the loss of both versions of her. 

I want my words to bear witness to her life. It was a life of extreme beauty and heartrending brokenness. On both sides of her illness, she was a faithful friend to me.  I cherish memories of ziplining through the jungles of Costa Rica, visiting STLs finest restaurants, vacationing with our families in Door County, exploring Vegas, scrapbooking in my basement, sharing family meals around our tables, wine tastings, untold hours of storytelling and laughter around the firepit with or without others.  As our life situations shifted and we both ended up on our own, we checked on each other regularly.  She is the ONLY person pinned at the top of my iMessages (as my sons have resentfully pointed out) because I didn't want to miss her texts.  I wanted to be available when she needed connection. 

Today, it's hard not to question why we hadn't talked since October...why I allowed myself to be so busy that I didn't push in when there was no response to my last invitation.  I look at our latest threads and see words like "Time is short." "I still love you and always will." "My health is failing." differently than I did at the time.  We shared a love of music - mostly off the beaten path stuff - but the last song link she sent me hits differently now too:

Who's gonna water my flowers? 

Who's gonna cry my name? 

When they lay me down in the cold hard ground, 

And I'm in my final hour,

Who's gonna water my flowers? 

I will, my friend.  I'll water your flowers.  Today I water them with an endless flood of tears.  I'm so sorry that you died alone.  I'm so sorry I wasn't there to talk you into staying or to hold your hand and bless you with words of comfort...reminding you of the faithfulness of Christ, of the remission of sin, of the hope of resurrection, and the promise of all things made new.   

May flights of angels sing thee to thy rest.  May you wait in peace until we are reunited in wholeness at the Final Resurrection.  

I still love you too...and always will.  Shalom, my friend.

Help Me, Rhonda

My friend, Rhonda, like so many of my other friends, is more comfortable around me when I'm being my usual smart-alek self. It's the occasional "nice" me that unnerves her. So, I'm warning you, Rhonda, you may just wanna leave now...'cause not only am I gonna be NICE...I'm gonna be nice ABOUT YOU. No...there's nothing wrong with me...really.

First, let me tell those of you who don't know her, a little about Rhonda. Picture this: she's the consumate Librarian/Artist. WHAT??!! Imagine the stiff and serious demeanor of your typical librarian, combine it with the egotisitical weirdness of your typical artist and....that's so NOT Rhonda. She IS wonderfully creative (she designed and created the most elaborate and gorgeous decorations for me for VBS a few years back), and she is a children's librarian who appreciates children's books, largely, because she has a delightful sense of humor!

So, she's creative, funny and a bit of a smart-alek herself. That's why I like her. Well, that...and she didn't abandon me altogether a few years back when I suggested how she might deal with her ill dog. When I put my imaginary "finger-gun" to my head and pulled the trigger, my motivation was a compassionate heart that didn't want to see him suffer anymore.

Yeah...O-K...she didn't buy that either.

Why am I telling you about Rhonda? Though she tries to hide behind a veneer of shallow ignorance, she is indeed a harbinger of profundity. (I know they don't use words like that in children's books, Rhonda. Look it up, dahling...in one of your library dictionaries.) How did I learn that behind this veneer lurks a storehouse of wisdom? She accidentally let it slip out last night while giving a "devotional" at a bridal shower! In spite of her reluctance to do this thing, Rhonda couldn't hide her creativity, her sense of humor...OR her wisdom. And she revealed all this using the medium with which she is most comfortable...a children's book!

The author uses the very common occurence of making and eating cookies to illuminate the principles of living well together. Rhonda specifically applied each of these principles to marriage, ultimately communicating the primary rule of Christian living: My Life For Yours. How many people could discover that in a children's book about making cookies? Only the wise ones...like my friend, Rhonda.

Thanks, Friend, for the conviction and the encouragement...and for saying "Yes!" (And don't hate me for being nice...it won't happen again anytime soon. I promise.)

Friends In Low Places

We just returned from The Garth Brook, as our foreign hotel concierge called it.

And.....

I must say.......

I liked it. It pains me to admit it, but "the truth will out."

I actually had no idea what to expect, since I've never attended a REAL concert before. The kind where everyone remains seated and nobody screams don't count as real concerts.

For those who care, here's the scoop:

First of all, thanks to our host, we had terrific seats! The concert began around 7:40 with Trisha Yearwood (GB's wife) performing a couple of her old songs. She has an excellent, strong voice, but is unimpressive as an entertainer. She finished by about 8:00. We then waited while the stage was re-configured for Mr. Brooks, which took about 20 minutes, after which we waited and waited and waited some more. For nearly an hour, we received no communication about the delay...so I decided that Garth must've dropped dead of a heart attack or something and the powers-that-be were trying to decide how to inform the crowd without inducing mass hysteria.

In the meantime, the crowd inside the Sprint Center grew restless and performed round after round of.........the WAVE! Yep. The wave.

Finally, just before 9pm, Garth made his grand entrance. Not too grand or flashy, but fun, as he sprang onto the stage from underneath. We stood for the next 2 1/2 hours singing along with all the old Garth favorites...yes, I said "we." You see, I married a country music fan and thereby inherited a couple of Garth's Greatest Hits CD's...and I used to listen to them quite often. I might have even enjoyed them. Maybe.

Unlike his wife, Mr. Brooks is the consummate performer/entertainer. It was obvious that he was in his element and enjoying every minute as the recipient of our attention and adulation. The little hair he has left is completely white, but his energy and stamina were equal to a much younger man's.

So, even though I would never have pursued tickets for Garth Brooks on my own, and really did go because it was DK's birthday, I actually enjoyed the concert a great deal! Of course, the rest of the trip, hanging with our friends, wasn't half bad either. It pays to have friends in low places.

Boots Required

O, the things we do for the sake of "one-anothering" the Body of Christ. This may be my greatest sacrifice yet...

See, I have this girlfriend (whom I will refrain from calling a redneck), who LOVES country music. She eats, drinks and breathes it. Now, if you met her, you would never GUESS this about her...I certainly didn't. It's true nevertheless and this friend just had a birthday. For her birthday she invited my husband and me to join her and her husband at a country concert...but not just ANY country concert - a GARTH BROOKS concert. Now, you can't get much more bona fide country than that, can you?

The real sacrifice is laying aside my pride when people find out that I'm going to a GB concert. I have not revealed it to anyone (until now), but somehow the word is out...people KNOW! So, just so you all know...I AM DOING THIS FOR MY FRIEND. It is a supreme sacrifice of love. And the kicker? AFTER we accepted the invitation....OUT OF LOVE, I might add...they informed us that cowboy boots are required! Oh, dear.

This whole friendship-love-sacrifice thing just isn't all it's cracked up to be... ;-)

Happy Birthday, DK!

I won! I won!

For the first time in my life, I won something!

What did I win?

Thanks for asking! Ironically enough, I won a purse...yes, a purse. But not just ANY purse! It's an original, one-of-a-kind Annie Wolfe bag! What? Never heard of her? Neither had I...

You see, my friend, April (April Showers) has a sister, Rechelle, who hosted a contest on her blog to win one of these 3 bags (Country Doctor's Wife). All you had to do was write an ode to your old purse. There were 40 entries and I got 2nd place! Now I need to buy a whole new wardrobe because this bag is way more stylin' than anything I currently own!

Here is my "winning" entry:

Old timeless bag, you're stained and ripped and overall quite shabby;

You once were shiny, firm and chic, but now you're thin and flabby;

Unlike the boy who loved his worn-out, scarlet-fevered rabby;

I'm sending you to your funeral pyre, 'cause now I covet Abby.

"Abby" is the bag's name...

If you get a chance, visit April and Rechelle's blogs. They are both great story tellers and possess a brilliant knack for making the mundane delightful! Rechelle is also a musician...check out her album "Famous Girl Detective" at i-Tunes.

Sleepless in St. Louis

I sleep so little, that typically, once I fall into that blissful oblivion, I don't stir until the alarm goes off...not so tonight, or should I say this morning? I awakened at 2:22 a.m. and an hour later, find my mind so active I can't fall back asleep.

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We had dinner "guests" last night for a sort of "last supper" celebration/mourning. My dearest friend for the last 12 years is sending her oldest off to college...it's a beautiful thing to watch these children grow up. His leaving has prompted all sorts of emotions I didn't expect...I have been perusing our family picture albums looking for photos of him through the years. I have the most adorable picture of him at age 5 wearing an Aladdin costume I made for his birthday...precious! Suddenly, I find that those sentimental-and-somewhat-cheesy lyrics "turn around and you're 2, turn around and you're 4, turn around and you're a young man going out of the door" bring tears to my eyes! What's happening to me?! I can only imagine what his mom must be feeling.

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I guess we old folk realize that this is the end of an era...their family and home will never be exactly the same again. This young man brings a vitality to all our family conversations...he participates easily (and entertainingly) in any dialogue, whether about theology, vacations, philosophy of education, baseball, politics, literature, ETC...he will be sorely missed.

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It is also the beginning of an era. He is heading off to Chattanooga - the absolute BEST college town - and I know many delights are in store for him (like hiking, rappelling, hang gliding, coffee shops, Riverbend, great folk concerts...oh yeah, and studying!). This, afterall, is the culmination of all those years of training - we don't raise them to keep them under our wings, but to go away confident and strong with a vision for making a difference in the world. I envision him now, instead of following all of us grown-ups, walking beside us...may he do so in a manner worthy of his calling in Christ Jesus! He will continue to be a blessing to many.

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My prayer for him: "That our Father, according to the riches of his glory, may grant you to be strengthened with power through his Spirit in your inner being, so that Christ may dwell in your heart through faith - that you, being rooted and grounded in love, may have strength to comprehend with all the saints what is the breadth and length and height and depth, and to know the love of Christ that surpasses knowledge, that you may be filled with all the fullness of God." (Eph 2) O-K, I am all cried out...for now. We love you, Alex! The LORD be with you.