Exploiting Cancer for Free Cake

So Matt and I have let ourselves be talked into trying out for this wedding contest held by one of the local morning shows, to be held at this chapel I've been considering on Valentine's Day. And televised. I have reservations, because, well, televised, plus I think it's one of those things where the audience not only chooses the winner but also the dress, cake, etc., which, I already have my dress and I love it and I don't care what fancy designer labels are on the show's offerings, I'm wearing my dress, k'thx. But on the other hand, free wedding, and sooner than we can possibly afford to do on our own, and that leaves more money for the honeymoon. So. I wrote my essay and sent it in, and this is what it says:

Prior to about a year ago, I didn't date. I'd been on one or two blind dates in my early twenties, but for the most part, I didn't date, and I didn't have boyfriends. I knew what I wanted in a mate, and I also knew that I would rather be on my own than spend my life with anything less. I had pretty much given up on ever meeting my ideal and made my peace with being single.

And then I met Matt Bauhaus.

He was in a similar boat at the time: hadn't dated much, wasn't sure he wanted to get married, and had resigned himself to a life of bachelorhood. But when my sister, his co-worker, mentioned me to him, something piqued his interest, and he asked her to put us in touch. I reluctantly agreed, and after several weeks of trading e-mails and phone calls, we finally met for our first date. It was the best decision either of us ever made.

Considering the trepidation we both felt going in, it didn't take us long at all to fall in love. I think that by the time we met in person we were both already halfway there. It was clear right away to both of us that we'd each found The One. By the third date we were saying "I love you," and by the fifth we were discussing marriage. By the end of last year, after two months of dating, we agreed that getting married wasn't a question of "if", but "when".

"When" has been our biggest struggle over the last year. Matt's faith and strength of character, the things I admire most about him, were shaped by a long and hard won battle with bone cancer that ultimately claimed his left leg. As if that weren't enough, he also found out a few years ago that he's diabetic. Medical bills have prevented him from being able to provide us with all of the wedding trappings that he believes I deserve. My mother is a widow on a fixed income, and I'm a recent college graduate with student loans that make it difficult to pay for anything but a very modest wedding on our side as well.

We don't dream of a huge, extravagant wedding. All we want is the once-in-a-lifetime chance for me to walk down the aisle to the man I adore while wearing a beautiful white gown, and to declare our love and commitment before God and family and, if we're allowed the chance, all of Green Country. As long as we've waited for each other, in all senses of the word, I believe we both deserve that opportunity.

I've waited more than thirty years for the man I'm going to marry. He not only waited just as long, but also survived cancer, chemotherapy and loss of limb to get to me. We're both ready for the wait to be over. We're ready for "when" to become "now."

Now to sit back and wait. *crosses fingers*

Doing bills, yay! Yes, that's my sarcastic yay. I was thinking of doing a wine and cheese picnic basket for NYE, but now I see that it'll have to be Lambrusco and Velveeta. Which, still tasty! And still a step more grownup than Coke and Cheetos.

Anyway. I'm getting things done today, thanks to my new ADD-proof system, which is that for every personal thing I do (including reading and writing blog entries), I have to do three actual work-related tasks before I can do another personal thing. It's made for a pretty productive morning. Of course, now I'm on my lunch break, so this doesn't count.

I'm also combatting fat and dented self-esteem by giving myself mini workout breaks. I've been pretty bummed over my lack of time to fit workouts into my schedule, but I finally remembered what I'd already figured out earlier this year, which is that a set of crunches here and a set of lunges there can be just as effective. Or at the very least, better than nothing. Also, if this mild weather we're having holds out, I'm not going to have any excuses not to bring a pair of walking shoes and do a mile on my lunch break. At any rate, hopefully getting some regular exercise will help get me back to feeling like my regular self again, instead of this fattened lethargic slug of apathy that I've recently turned into. I'm Jeanie the Hutt! Only without the slime. Or the power. Or the metal-bikini clad slave girls. Oy, but I'm ready for the holidays to end.

"HEY! LET'S BE ENGAGED!" Or, when new obsessions pay homage to old ones.

Fenwic has been patiently waiting for me to finish the first season of Veronica Mars so that she could point me to this, a hilariously brilliant comparison with the first six seasons of Buffy. With pictures. Hee.

Rush Hour Zen

Good: Banana Bread instant oatmeal with chopped walnuts and a side of turkey bacon. Mmmm. Zony.

Bad: Morning traffic.

Seriously, driving in traffic is a pretty good illustration of what's wrong with our society. Everybody's rushing to get to where they need to go, too hurried to allow even a second for niceties such as yielding or signalling that we're about to change lanes, mostly, I think, because we know nobody's going to let us in. It's everybody for himself and damn the competition. We treat the morning drive like a race to the finish, much as we treat life. I'm guilty of it too, on both counts. So I'm challenging myself to slow down. To be mindful of the other drivers and the fact that my need to be somewhere is no more important than theirs. To slow down when people signal and let them in front of me. To not get angry every time somebody else gets ahead of me. Maybe if I can do it in traffic, I'll be able to do it in life. And maybe I'll be able to brighten some harried driver's day enough that they too will slow down and pay the favor forward. And maybe, just maybe, I'll be able to introduce a little kindness into my patch of the world, one motorist at a time.

Okay, that's a little hokey. But really. Is it going to kill me, or even significantly affect my arrival time, to back off a little when somebody needs to be in my lane? No. And it's not going to kill you either, red minivan driver.[/PSA]

***

I hope everybody had a Christmas that was merry and bright and brought you the loot you were hoping for. My haul included a Serenity DVD from Matt, a Phantom of the Opera DVD from li'l sis, and the 1950s edition of the Better Homes & Gardens Cook Book and a soft and velvety red bathrobe from my mom. Meanwhile, Matt was very pleased with the small yet badass-looking pocket knife I got him, as well as the shirts he received from me and my mom. Boy looks good in blue, I tells ya. We had a pretty nice Christmas despite the fact that he had to work that morning, wherein we hung out at my mom's and both ate until we made ourselves sick. Good times.

So this week we're all about polishing off the rest of the sweets so that we can start off the new year eating right, so that, hopefully, we'll look good in our wedding gear. Also, it occurred to me that next Christmas I'm going to be a married woman, which, huh. I don't think that's fully sunk in yet. And if '06 goes by as fast as '05 did, then we'll be married befor we know it. Wow. I should probably start cracking down on that whole wedding planning thing.

Blogs worth paying attention to

One thing I didn't like about my time on Live Journal was how it shrank my entire inter-web experience down to that which could be conveniently and lazily fed to me via my "Friends List." Now that I'm out of that filtered environment and on my own to find good journal reads, my surfing through blog-land has turned up a few gems over the last few days, to wit:

• Asking the Wrong Questions - the blog of a well-spoken and insightful genre fan. She doesn't care for Martin, but she thinks Mal Reynolds needs a hug, so I won't hold the former against her.



• The Splintered Mind - a humorous and insightful column about the foibles of living with Adult ADD. Delightfully free of self-pity and boring medication talk, big on self-depricating humor and encouragement.



• Miss Snark, the Literary Agent - A real live book agent swills back gin and props her stilletos on the desk and commences to dispense free (and entertaining) industry advice.

And now to stop with the surfing and do some actual work.

Sigh.

Dear Self:

Just a friendly reminder: it is necessary to fill the coffee maker's reservoir with water in order for drinkable coffee to result. And don't forget to put the pot back on the burner when you're done.

On a related note: congratulations for finally remembering your mug. At least that's one thing you got right today.

Affectionately,
You

'Tis the season to be funky. Not in the good way. Also, spoilers for VM and ASOIAF.

Skip the following paragraph if you've missed out on the goodness that is Veronica Mars and have any intention of watching it someday.


(spoiler space)


So really, all a TV show needs to garner my obsession is a good, compelling couple to 'ship. Make the male lead either a woobie that needs lots of comforting or a bad boy in need of redemption who's discovering feelings for his worst enemy, and I'm on board. Make him both? I'll sail that 'ship until it drowns me. So. Logan and Veronica. Tailor made to push every single one of my buttons. I'm not about to start writing Loronica fanfic or anything, but damn. They got me. Just when I swore I'd never 'ship again, they pulled me back in.


(spoiler space)


Skip this next paragraph if you have yet to read A Feast for Crows. Or any of the preceding books, for that matter.


(spoiler space)


I do not believe that Sandor Clegane is dead. Nuh uh. Not for a minute. You know what I do think? I think that the Elder Brother found him and healed him and worked his mojo on him to get him to spill his guts the way Brienne did, which is the only way the EB could know so much about him and his motivations. And I think he symbolically buried Sandor's armor to signify the death of the Hound and mark a new beginning for Sandor. I even have a sneaking suspicion that he's there at the monestary, all hidden under a cowl and a vow of silence. I'd even go so far as to guess that he was the one who stopped digging the grave long enough to pet Dog. That's right. I'm on to you, Martin. You haven't fooled me for a second. Sandor's still with us. He is, dammit! And I still think he's destined to slay dragons (and maybe finally get to save Sansa Stark in the process).


(spoiler space)


***

Matt and I are both caught in a funk. I think mine is a combination of holiday blues and hormones and worrying about him and his funk, and his is mostly worry about his health and feeling like he's not doing a good enough job taking care of himself, combined with guilt over his inability to stop stressing about it and just trust God that it's going to be okay. Plus, I think, we both miss our dads. And we're both just bone tired and soul weary. I'm not too worried about us. I wish we could both snap out of it in time to enjoy Christmas together, but I know that we will snap out of it eventually. I think once the holidays are done and we get serious about planning the wedding and our lives together and coming up with some financial strategies together, not to mention being done with holiday indulgence and getting back on the health and fitness track, we'll both start to feel a lot better about everything. And just generally feel better.

I gotta say, though, I can't even fathom the kind of anxiety he's dealing with. I've never faced a life-threatening disease, and he's had two. I realized a while back that the reason he doesn't like to plan too far ahead is because there was a time when he thought he might not be around in six months or whatever to go through with his plans. I think he still tends to think that way. Of course, none of us have any guarantees, but when you've had to fight for your life the way he has, it must make you feel especially vulnerable. I just wish I had a better idea of how to help him through this, but all I know to do is to be there for him to discuss his fears and pray with him and help him take really good care of himself. At least I think that marriage is going to be really good for him as far as helping him break some of his bad bachelor habits, especially if he lets me do the meal planning. I just wish there was more I could do to calm his fears.

***

I expect a slow day today at the office. Think I'll crack down and try to get all my work done this morning so I can have a liesurely afternoon of hanging out and straightening up my office. Maybe I can use some of my downtime to work on holiday cards. Scratch that: I will use some of my downtime to work on cards. Here's wishing the rest of you who are stuck in an office today an easy and painless day-before-the-day-before Christmas.

Hotty totty potty. Also: Matt r00lz!!1!~

I didn't sleep well last night. I kept waking up, once after a nightmare about that scary little well girl that evolved into a night terror wherein I woke up believing that some invisible evil entity at the end of my bed had hold of both my ankles and wouldn't let them go. Good times! I had another hot toddy before I went to sleep in the hopes of knocking out the rest of the chest crud I've been dealing with (it worked, for the most part), but after such a restless night I'm now thinking that maybe alcoholic beverages at bed time aren't the best idea. Especially considering I also kept having to get up to go pee.

Last night's insomnia means today's lack of focus. I got off to a good start, but then I kind of petered out and stopped doing work altogether. I've got a stack of checks and invoices on my desk that really need to be dealt with, but every now and then I glance over at them, feel a pang of guilt, and go back to surfing. I'm useless today. So I'll eat my Zone-friendly lunch (another egg-fu salad half-sandwich and a V8) and take my ADD chill pills and then maybe after my break I'll be able to make myself crack down and earn my keep around here. It doesn't help that I forgot to bring a mug again and so I still can't have coffee. Another day of cheating on my soda fast might be in order. I'mma get cranky if I don't get caffienated soon.

***

This post, my friends, offers some good gender-relational advice. I'll let you go read it--go ahead, I can wait. Done? Good--and then I'll say this: Guys? Seriously, all we want at times like this is for you to hold our hands, or maybe even put your arms around us, and lest us cry and vent and get it all out of our systems. Don't try to fix things for us, or tell us how we can fix it. Don't even try to understand, because chances are you're just not gonna. Just listen, and be sympathetic, and let us know that it's okay and that you still love us and still think we're great no matter what. Then when we're done we can suck it up and laugh it off and everybody can get on with their evening in peace. Yes, it's wacky, but that's just the way it is.

Matt's learning this. And, by the by, that post, as many posts on that blog do, makes me appreciate how much I really lucked out. But he's finally learning not to take my meltdowns personally or to try and do anything about them other than just to hold me and let me cry it out and then assure me that he still thinks I'm awesome and pretty and he still loves me and that if I want to talk it over some more he's there for me. I had just such a meltdown last night when, on top of hurting from cramps all day and feeling like crap from the chest thing and having poor self esteem from looking as bad as I felt and smarting a little from a minor disagreement over the cell phone bill, it was time to go home, and the thought of having to get up off the couch and go out in the cold and drive for forty minutes instead of just being able to go to bed there was too much and I lost it and broke down in tears. And he was really, really sweet about it. What's more, this morning when I apologized for my meltdown he was totally perplexed as to why I would even feel the need to apologize. When I pointed out that a lot of guys just don't have the patience that he does for that sort of thing, he thought that I must be wrong about that, because the guy simply has no idea just how rare and wonderful he is. But I do, and I always appreciate a good reminder, because I never want to take him for granted or forget what a truly incredible guy he is. In short: I love Matt.

***

On a final and completely unrelated note, my dear Fenwic just pointed out that somebody has created a convenient satellite feed of this blog for LJ. Thanks, someone. Also, just a reminder that if you comment in the feed on your f-list, I'll never see it, let alone be able to respond to it. You have to come to this page and comment in order for me to see it.

Bah to the bah

I'm currently lunching on tofu "egg" salad, which is surprisingly tasty. The tofu is close enough in texture and consistency to mashed eggs that once you mix in all the spices and mayo and such you can't really tell the difference. Of course, my attempt at extra-healthy eating is countered by my finally breaking down and fetching myself a Diet Coke, thus ending a months-long streak of no drinking pop (except on special occasions and/or as an occasional alcoholic mixer). This because I once again forgot to bring a mug to replace the coffee mug I broke in the bathroom sink last week, and so I'm still prevented from drinking coffee. I need to bring some styrofoam cups up here for just such a time as this. Bah.

Mmm, Diet Coke. Only lime could improve you.

Matt and I are trying to get back on the Zone, which is why the tofu. I'd like to lose another size before the wedding, which actually only gives me until about May, which is when I'll need to start getting my dress fitted. Mainly I just want to get used to eating and cooking habits that will be healthy for him and help him control his diabetes. The fact that it's good for me too is just a side benefit. But I think my goals are going to come down to my finding (or making) the time to work out. I might have to start shutting my office door and doing Pilates on my lunch break. I also want to find a good yoga or physical therapy video that will help me work on flexibility and strengthening my back. Any suggestions? When I'm moaning and groaning on my wedding night I don't want it to be because of old lady aches and pains (oh yes I did!).

***

Yesterday was quite the relaxing day, and the mulled wine I simmered up was quite the yummy treat, even though I let it get hot enough that it boiled out a little too much alcohol to contribute a whole lot to the relaxing part. And my 8 hour Veronica Mars marathon got cut in half when my second DVD turned out to be cracked. Thanks a lot, Netflix. Or maybe it's thanks a lot, post office. Either way, that gets another "bah." On the bright side, I made pretty good progress on Tess's present, and now it's almost halfway there. And the break, it done me good. Now I just have to find time to do all that laundry before I run out of things to wear.

A time to rest

First of all, ew. I'm on my mom's computer and I just looked over and noticed a pair of spindly spider legs stuck to the wall. Ew, ew, ew.

Yes, I had to share. You're welcome. ;D

Anyway. A day off. I haven't had a real one of those in forever. I took Thursday before last off for the express purpose of lazing around in my jammies and vegging in front of the TV all day, but it snowed the night before and stranded me at Matt's. I still had a nice day to relax with him at his place, but it wasn't quite the mental break I was hoping for. So today I'm ignoring the pile of laundry that's spilling over from my hamper and using the fact that I have to knit like a ... thing that knits really fast to finish Tess's present in time for Christmas as an excuse to camp out on the couch and watch Veronica Mars all day. Assuming, of course, that the next two DVDs actually show up in today's mail like they're supposed to. *crosses fingers*

The only other "work" I've got planned for today is to make myself a big pot of hot mulled wine and finally tackle those Christmas cards. So that's my day: getting warm and toasty and mildly toasted as I perform Christmasy tasks that don't require me to get up from the couch and marathon what is quickly becoming a new TV fave. It sounds so restful and relaxing that I'm not sure I'll be able to handle it. But I'll sure give it my best shot.

Wah!

Matt and I saw King Kong this weekend. I'm still choking up over it. Poor big innocent CGI monkey*.

Also, shut up, Jack Black. Beauty did not kill the beast. You did, you big stupid greedy guy.

*sniff*

*Yes, I know the difference between an ape and a monkey. But monkey will always be the funnier word.

***

I feel like I'm catching a cold, but I'm hoping it's only allergies. You wouldn't think allergies would still be an issue this time of year, but that's Oklahoma for ya. Anyway, I fixed myself a nice spiced hot toddie last night with some leftover Dewar's, and it soothed my rough and dry throat and sent me into sweet, sweet slumberland. Mmm, hot toddie. That's another recipe I owe to Keckler.

***

Here sucketh I. I knew that this weekend had to be my deadline to get my Christmas cards out. So did I remember to take them with me to Matt's so I could work on them after Church? And then did I remember to bring them with me to work this morning so I could go with plan B and get them out today? Those would both be nos. Yeah. I think everybody that doesn't live within hand delivery distance is going to be getting e-cards this year. Grumble.

On the bright side, I did manage to get all my presents wrapped, so I'm not entirely without Christmastime accomplishment. *limply pats self on back*

System Dump

First, a confession: I've gotten hooked on TWoP again. Not the forums, mind. I'm not that insane. Just the recaps, particularly the reality show recaps by the likes of Miss Ali, Potes and, most notably, Keckler. I say most notably mainly because Keckler is a chef and I'm trying to segue smoothly into sharing this recipe for roasted cauliflower that I totally got from her, and she totally deserves the props because this stuff is heaven in your mouth. Heav. En!

1 head cauliflower
Olive oil
Salt
Pepper

Chop the bejeezus out of the cauliflower. Spread on a shallow roasting pan and drizzle on the olive oil. Salt and pepper to taste, and toss until all of the florets and crumbly bits are coated. Stick in a pre-heated 475 degree oven, stirring occasionally, for about 35 minutes. Serve hot.

Trust me. Even if you think you don't like cauliflower, keep an open mind and reserve your judgment until you try this stuff. If I had to eat one veggie prepared one way for the rest of my life, it would be this. It's that. Good.

I served this stuff up on Thanksgiving at my mom's house. Once everybody got over their shock that I actually contributed something other than pouring the drinks, they raved and started demanding the recipe. In short: 'tis the yum.

***

I've almost finished my Christmas shopping, though I just got started on the knitting project I'm doing for my friend Tess. I haven't even touched my Christmas cards yet, though, but even though it's only 9 days till Christmas I still have every intention of sending cards this year. I have to fit them into this weekend, somehow. Tonight, I finish up my shopping, and then I might pick up some eggnog before heading home to wrap. Whee!

***

I added the link to the RSS feed over on the side, if anybody wants to add me to their newsreaders to make it easier to keep up. I don't plan on being this prolific every day, but you never know.

***

I'm pretty useless today, thanks to a) breaking the only mug in the entire office in the sink this morning when I went to rinse it and thus depriving myself of coffee and b) leaving my ADD pills on the counter at home. This, combined with c) staying up too late the last two nights to catch up on Veronica Mars (I'm only on the third disk of the first season, so don't spoil me) and d) getting up early both mornings to carpool with Matt all means that very little actual work is getting done in my office today.

Speaking of work, earlier this week I had an interview with a recruiting agency. The job they wanted me for didn't turn out to be something I wanted, but I managed to make a good enough impression on the recruiters that they want to keep me on file and consider me for future work. Of course, I love the job I've got and have no desire to give it up until they make me, and I don't want to go full time again until after the wedding. But it's comforting to know that when the time comes that I'll need to find a job, I'll have another reputable agency in my corner helping me look. And, bonus, they asked for info on my gift baskets and said they'll try to send some business my way. As much as I hate the whole networking thing, I love it when I do it and it all works out.

And now in the two hours left in my workday I suppose I should go make myself be productive. Sigh. My kingdom for a cup of French roast.

...

Oh, but first: Kitties!

Mission Statement

I blog for me. I've said this before in previous blog incarnations, but I've realized that when I said it before it was so much bull dookie. I blogged for attention and approval. I blogged to convince myself and others that I was cool. I blogged to promote myself and to push opinions that were better kept to myself even though at the time I had hubris enough to believe they had to be heard.

Now, I blog for me. To vent, to ramble, to flex my writing muscles so they don't atrophy, to work out ideas and get things out of my system and, hopefully, to have fun doing it. I waited to start blogging again until I was sure I was doing it for the right reasons. All right, yeah, I blog a little bit for audience feedback, because otherwise, why make it public, right? But that's not the point or the purpose, and if it turns out I'm blogging into the wind, I'm going to keep right on blogging.

I'm going to be a dork. I'm going to embrace ordinariness and laud priorities that don't include becoming rich or famous or hip or cool and that do include being truly happy and satisfied with life. I'm going to be long winded, except when I don't feel like it. I'm going to update not because I feel obligated, but because I have something to say. I'm going to be devout, and I'm going to be irreverent. I'm going to talk about God and Jesus and the Bible in quite possibly the same posts that I talk about sexy TV vampires and their sexy six-pack abs. Mostly I'm going to talk about my fiance and our wedding plans and, eventually, our marriage and how much in love I am, and how extremely blessed. I'll talk about our pets. I'll talk about dieting. I'll talk about knitting, and maybe even post pictures. I'll pimp the heck out of my gift baskets. And I'll surely also talk about writing, mostly in the hopes that talking about doing it will make me feel some kind of obligation to actually do it. In short, I'm going to be myself. No posing, no posturing, no pretending to be anything I'm not.

Feel free to comment and share your thoughts or to just say hi. Feel free also to not. If you don't I promise not to pout or become petulantly silent or to start fishing for attention. If you do, I don't promise to respond individually to every single comment, because that just never works out and I would quickly become a liar. Welcome to my space. Just be warned that this is where I let it all hang out.

It's a trust thang

So a while back, I screwed up. I did a stupid thing that pissed a lot of people off and let a lot of people down. But my biggest sin in that equation, I've since realized, was that I misplaced my trust. I don't mean mistakenly trusting perceived friends to give me the benefit of the doubt re: my intentions and gently admonish me if I was wrong, which, yes and ouch, but beside the point; I mean that I put my trust and faith and hope in my own abilities and in my own perceived popularity to save me from a frustrating situation, when instead I should have put all of my trust and faith in God. I got a taste of BNF-dom and let it go to my head, and what's worse, I gave fandom and my own talents and abilities more importance in my life than my relationship with my heavenly Father. For that alone, I deserved the smackdown that soon followed.

What does trust look like?
So since then, I've been working on learning how to relax and trust God. It's involved a lot of prayer, and a lot of repentance, and a lot of Bible study. It's involved not panicking and rushing to find the quick fix to my problems, but instead approaching them with patience and prayer. It's also involved a lot of trying to figure out exactly how trust works and what it looks like, something I'm still struggling with.

The other day, I took my dog, a toy poodle named Fizzgigg, to my fiance's in an attempt to socialize him with Matt's cat. Fizz is not exactly housebroken (he's deaf and blind and not exactly a spring chicken, so what're you gonna do?), so when we left for church I had to shut him in the bathroom to avoid any potential carpet damage and to keep him from hurting himself. As I left him there it occurred to me: this little animal has complete trust in me. He knows that I'll feed him and take care of him and not let anything bad happen to him if I can help it, and even when I do something he doesn't like that he doesn't realize is for his own good, he knows that if he keeps barking, eventually I'll show up to either remove him from the situation or comfort him and make it easier for him to bear. If I'm willing to respond to the needs of this little barking dog, how much more is my creator willing to respond when I cry out to him?

I shared this little epiphany with Matt, and he shared another illustration that he heard from a former pastor. This pastor was on a road trip with his family when their vehicle broke down in another state, and they couldn't get back home until they could get expensive repairs done. He stressed about this to the point that he made himself and his wife miserable. While he was sitting in a park one afternoon with his head in his hands wondering what he was going to do to fix the situation, he looked up and saw his boys playing, running around and chasing each other with big smiles on their faces and not a care in the world. Then it hit him: they're not stressed because they trust that daddy's going to take care of everything. He knew then that he needed to apply that same trust to his own Daddy in Heaven.

About ten years ago, driving home from work one night, I heard over and over, like a little voice in the back of my head, "I am the father to the fatherless." I was having a lot of problems getting along with my dad at the time, and I shrugged it off as having something to do with that. A week later, my dad died. A few days after that I opened my Bible to Psalm 68 and read, "A father to the fatherless, a defender of widows, is God in his holy dwelling (Ps. 68:5)." I think maybe it's hard, when you haven't had the kind of relationship with your earthly father that engenders trust, to fully grasp what it is to trust God. But I think I'm finally starting to get it. It means knowing that somehow, everything is going to be okay, because Daddy's here. It's just as simple and complicated as that.