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Love & Faithfulness Win: A letter to my children

Dear Children,

I recently wrote some letters – to you, about you – mostly addressing your “someday” relationships. Let me say that I’m praying for these. I never knew how big I had won this prize, but year after year your father blesses me beyond what I imagined. He’s my biggest believer, challenger and supporter. I can’t imagine doing life without him.

And I don’t want you live without such support, challenge and confidence, either. Of course, if it’s the calling to which you find yourself, there’s nothing wrong with singleness. Stay single! Enjoy your freedom! Travel a bit. Cherish deep friendships. You see a different side of life from a lifelong partnership, but we can’t define it as “better” or “worse.”

No, my bigger fear is that you live apart from your lifelong partner because you’re afraid. Afraid of what your father and I will say. Afraid of being forced from the church. Afraid of sin, afraid of labels, afraid of hell.

I want to be very clear about this: there is no one you could love that would cause us – or your God – to stop loving you. In fact, scripture tells us there is no fear in love but perfect love casts off all fear. Although we try our hardest, your parents are guilty of imperfect love – yet God is not.

One of my many places of privilege in this life and world comes having never questioned my attractions, identity or an inclusion in groups of our society. But my story is not the only story. So, dear children, if you find later in life that you tend to be more attracted to someone who shares your gender, I pray fear is not your first reaction. You might be confused or unsure. But your father and I will do our best to make sure fear and shame aren’t part of the equation.

Just to let you know, this might be tough for us. We grew up and live in a culture where the relationships around us tend to be homogeneous in their heterosexual nature. If we appear shaky, blame it on the fact that this is a new experience for us. Even our best intentions could be construed as unsupportive, and we are so very sorry when that hurts.

You don’t disappoint us. Living outside of the way God made you – that’s reason to be disappointed. No, when we don’t know what to say or how to act, it’s because we’re naive, insecure and unprepared. Those are our sins, not yours.

We have enjoyed a beautiful marriage, not because we adhere to the proper penis ratio, but rather it has given us an experience of God’s love and faithfulness. I’ve read the scriptures over and over and over again. Never once do I hear of God choosing a law over love and faithfulness. You might be bashed with verses about “sexual immorality,” but remain clear: living in a committed, faithful relationship reflects God’s nature much more than shouts of shame.

No, those passages address a culture hell-bent on getting what it wants, at the expense of the bodies and souls of other people. Prostitution in the temples, rape culture, and sex as a commodity as opposed to an expression of love – these are the immoral sins our God abhors. Look not too far in our contemporary history and we find a “homosexual lifestyle” linked by name to such a way of life. But we’re finally arriving at a time and place where those terms are divorced and people are finally free to acknowledge different forms of their monogamous love in honest and open ways. Some states even let you make it public, with legal equality. (Wouldn’t it be great if, by the time you read this for real, it was the case for all states? And can we please get on the ball with adoption rights? Because I will want some grandchildren.)

So, my dear child, love, in whatever way that feels truthful to you. Love and faithfulness win every time. And that starts with your parents. We vow to be loving and faithful, no matter what you discover about yourself.

In love and faithfulness,

Mom (& Dad)

Grieving her spirit

Miss M is a kind, helpful soul. Of any child, she is quickest to lend a hand even without repeating myself. In her heart she wants to be a part of something big – and good. 

Except last night. 
Bedtimes have been a battle over here as the two ladies who share a room both hover at the Year 3 mark – one coming in and the other going out – which historically is the Year of the Worst Bedtimes Ever. (Seriously, someone could make a living putting 3-year-olds to bed. Parents would gladly pay for that service). So when one creates a ruckus, the other plays off it nicely. I think they secretly call it their 1-2 punch. I feel like it’s a full court press. 
Because Lady C is just growing into the Threes, I have more grace for her. It’s that phase when they learn some independence and want you to know their separateness while lacking confidence and wanting you nearby. So they want to lie in bed by themselves yet come down every 5 minutes to check on you. Just to see if you’re still angry that they’re not asleep.
While Miss C wades through these waters, Miss M is a seasoned swimmer. She knows by now, which makes it all the more frustrating to see her in action. In fact, I woke with a sad heart. It bothered me beyond the lack of sleep and the extra energy to walk up the stairs 14 times. In some sense, I was grieving her performance. 
Part of my heart cried for her a little. She’s not living the beautiful life that is in her, I felt. She knows there is more – she has tasted, has seen. Yet she chose this contrary spirit. The rebellious heart. 
I recently reread the verse in Ephesians 4 that says And do not grieve the Holy Spirit of God, with whom you were sealed for the day of redemption. I’ll be honest, for most of my life this made no sense to me. Grieve? The spirit? Don’t make it sad? I don’t get it. It’s such an other-wordly concept to me. 
Last night gave me a taste of that. My spirit was grieved because I knew my child had another spirit in her yet she chose not to live by it. She chose selfishness and pride. She chose her own agenda, even when she knew the one given provided far better opportunity, more space for a generous and joyous life. 
I’m not asking for perfection. I’m seeking a heart without contention, that’s all. I can deal with slips of the hand or turtle-paced progress toward growth. A rebellious spirit, however, might do me in. 
Now I find myself face down, knowing my heart hardened with the same calloused attitude, feeling the familiar buck of the head backwards… it’s clear that this apple didn’t fall far from its tree. God has felt a similar grief, far beyond what my heart can bear, and still came back for me when the sun rose on the third day.

Life is who you spend it with

Our eighth anniversary came and went on Tuesday with a toast and a smile, but otherwise passed as an uneventful day. We were going to forgo a celebration dinner in lieu of getting a lot of work done on a new rental house. Priorities, yes? 

Then friends called and said that we needed to join them at “the best steakhouse in the area” (partnered with those magical words “gift certificate”). So we immediately booked a sitter. 
At times we catch flack because we don’t choose to spend our precious adult time alone, just the two of us.   It’s how we roll. We nearly always opt for good company. Last year, we went to Columbus for an anniversary getaway and JJ invited a friend to join us for drinks. We celebrated our 5th (the first big milestone) by letting my parents buy us dinner. Take out. 
Actually, our version of celebrating “as a couple” is nearly always with others. On our honeymoon – yes, that special time alone – we jumped an island to go visit my cousins who were vacationing nearby. It became a highlight of the trip. Now we’re contemplating a 10 year anniversary trip with longtime friends. 
I inherited this priority of adult friendships from my parents – I grew up watching them enjoy their childless weekend nights with other couples. They would enjoy a steak from the Steer Barn or gab while playing cards. They had a collection of couples they would call upon to join them for a night at the races, but the beauty was they never had big organized activities requiring an RSVP by all friends. If someone couldn’t make it, they joined in next time. Such an open-door policy freed them from petty arguments. 
After nearly 30 years of growing comfortable friendships, everyone’s kids have grown up and started families. Some of them near, some far. Nests are empty and they no longer live by the high school basketball schedule. While family has always come “first”, the landscape has changed. Now they’re moving into that season of life when friends become widows. As family shape changes once again, they are blessed to keep their circle of friendships consistent. 
That’s our hope. We love our children – and one another – but we recognize now that this season will seem short at the end. So while we eat up every chance for family outings and vacations, pizza nights at home and trips to the park, there’s a certain level of beauty that comes with sharing some of those moments with good friends. When the kids grow up and (if we do this right) leave and continue the cycle as functional, contributing members of society, we want to wave them goodbye with tears in our eyes as one of those friends hands us a tissue, knowing the pride and the pain in our hearts. 
Those kinds of friends won’t magically appear when it becomes convenient. Life shared with others takes the work of clearing space. Giving your “alone time” to those you enjoy*. When it comes down to it, the only thing we take from this world is our relationships with others. 
Setting the example: my dad sharing his (our) vacation with the best of friends. 
*To ease any fears, we do occasionally enjoy a date night as a couple. We’re home by 9. 
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