Just So

Nobody moves anything anymore.

It all stays put.

Just so.

Exactly where I thought I wanted it

Back when I didn't know better

Back when little fingers touched everything

Took everything

Or it just went walking

Somewhere

Anywhere but where it goes

We built these trains

And laid the track

Of this life

One little piece at a time

Little locomotives

And steam engines

To run away with my heart.

Or maybe just over it.

Leave it gasping, frantic

For just one screw

Out of place.

Something.

Anything

To step on.

Anyone

Underfoot

If these floors could have told me, they would have

If these walls could have warned me, I'd have known

That every little block

And shoe

And piece of everything

Would one day stay put.

Just so.

We built these engines that ride off the rails

And carry a piece of my soul

On the way to get a cheeseburger

In a new town

With a new best lady

I found my tweezers just the other day.

How I wish to God they were still missing

Instead of you

© 2019 Laurie Sitterding

Words of Expectant Hope

Almost 25 years ago, a couple knocked on our door—and the doors of our hearts—with a box of warm Kristy Kreme doughnuts and an announcement that we were going to be fast friends. Three days ago, I held this dear friend’s hand for the last time. I wasn't ready to say goodbye.

Our friendship over the years was complicated and complex... deep, and fierce, and fragile at times. We were like family. We loved, and served, and forgave each other, through much of life’s struggle and fear and joy and pain. At times, we hurt each other deeply. There was judgment, and misunderstanding, and betrayal, and anger. But there was also faithfulness, and commitment, and a steadfast clinging to the pursuit of unity in Christ. We grew up together. We matured together. We knew each other through every iteration of pride and judgment and arrogance, and yet we somehow made a way to find the best in each other and presume a heart of good will from each other. We served one another, at times selflessly and without thanks, and in the end we found that none was needed... not really.

Since that day many years ago when my friend shared with us that she may have found a lump in her breast, I have prayed for her body, and her family, and her spirit. When she needed to turn the chairs inward and fight this battle without me for a time, I prayed. And trusted. And served. And waited. Restoration and reconciliation—though incomplete this side of heaven—are beautiful to behold, and even more beautiful to live.

This valiant warrior was never more lovely to me than the day I took the clippers to her beautiful raven hair, watching it fall to the ground in waves, like my tears. She is the bravest woman I have ever known, battling this scourge that sought to defeat her body for so many long, painful, wearying years.

I have been preparing my heart for some time that she might be called to leave us some day way too early, even as I desperately hoped that our faithful God—whom I knew could—would choose to heal her. She knew it, too, and hoped it to the bitter end, even as she gave us all the strength to trust along with her that He does all things well.

Even on the day that He called her home to be with Him—her body struggling to breathe and her mind no longer able to grasp our presence with her—she called upon the name of her faithful God to help her. I want faith like that, like my dear friend Darla’s... faith that is so deeply woven into my very being that it clings to my soul and spirit, even as conscious thought and communication have failed... and that erupts from my lips in words of dependence and expectant hope and trust, when all other words have been said. "Help me. God, help me."

My dear friend, I am so grateful that I got to spend those several hours with you just before He called you home. It was a blessing—to me—to speak to you, even though I wasn't necessarily sure that you could hear me or know what I was saying. I do believe our human spirits perceive, in some sort of awareness and communion and fellowship... and that our heavenly spirits know and understand things that our conscious minds can no longer grasp. I'm so glad I got to tell you one last time what a good wife you were, what a good mom. To hold your hand and touch your arm and stroke your beautiful hair. To thank you for your faithful friendship. To assure you that we would take care of Ken and the kids. To tell you that it was safe for you to go. That you had fought such a brave, good fight... that you were almost home. To quote to you the 23rd Psalm... which would have seemed trite had the words not felt so perfectly right and true. Those are the words He gave me, so those are the words I gave you. The Lord is my Shepherd. Green pastures. Still waters. The valley of the shadow of death. I will not fear. Thou art with me. Guides my path. A table before me. Goodness and lovingkindness. I will dwell in the house of the Lord. Forever and ever.

It was a privilege and an honor to share those sacred moments alone with you, and then to witness your sweet Kathryn and your precious Ken as they reached out to hold your hand or touch your arm in your restlessness—"I'm here, my sweetheart. What do you need, my love? I'm right here"—and to see you settle down, comforted and quieted.

"This is part of the deal," Ken had told me. "This is what we sign up for, on our wedding day. 'Till death do us part.' It's hidden there, in plain sight, right in our wedding vows." I witnessed the most sacred of things in that room that day... the palpable love of a man for his wife—flawed and human, yes, but sacred and powerful and astonishing... wild, and fierce, and rearing its head to be sure it was known and perceived until the very last breath.

Well done, good and faithful one. So very well done!

I am so glad that you are now in heaven, dear Darla, where there is no pain or sorrow or cancer. I wish I could have loved you better. I wasn't ready to be finished learning to love you well. I miss you. The world is less beautiful without you in it. Your beautiful voice is missing as I worship. But I know that you are now “absent from the body and at home with the Lord,” and I can only imagine the glories in which you now live. And from which you now sing.

I look forward to our reunion in heaven, where there are no tears or pain or ability to misunderstand or hurt one another ever again. So go ride your horse in the horse corner of heaven, my sweet friend. I'll see you soon...

Chopin Doesn't Live Here Anymore

I am standing in my kitchen
Like a thousand other mornings
Of a lifetime of mornings
In silence.
Deafening silence.

Every morning of my life
Every year of my life
For decades of my life
Was a soundtrack

Brahms and Bach
And Bela Bartok.
And Ludwig.

Schubert and Schumann
And Shostakovich.
And Wolfgang
Amadeus.

They played for me.
Butchering and mastering.
Neither mattered.
Both were grand.
And all was beauty.

Every forgotten sharp
And shaved note
And curse under the breath of frustration
And tears
Were background noise I forgot to take in.
Hours a day
Of an ordinary, extraordinary soundtrack.
And I missed it.

And I miss it.

The music.
Doesn't.
Play.
Anymore.

Louder than it ever was
Is the silence
And the longing
And the ache
In the wake.

Chopin doesn't live here anymore.

© 2017 Laurie Sitterding
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My entry for the February 2017 prompt—Music and Memory—at Poets Online.

Isn't that the way they say it goes?

Okay, so I haven't written here in a long time. I didn't make it past August in the 12-Months of 2015 Blog Challenge. We started eating cookies again sometime in the middle of the year. And the daily journal writing is only semi-daily, at best. I didn't even try to do a 2016 Blog Challenge.

Sigh. Isn't that how it almost always goes? The resolve in the resolutions is only so resolute, especially when the lure of the flesh rears its ugly head. And so there are no posts these days. But not because I don't think big thoughts. Just because I don't have the stamina to write them down just now.

The Plural Possessive Refresher We All Need, Even Though No One Wants It

...And Just in Time for Christmas Cards!


I bring you the following Public Service Announcement, from your friendly grammar-girl editing professional. This is just in time for Christmas cards, in case you want to have them grammatically correct.

(If you know what's correct, and you choose to knowingly do it wrong because "you don't care if it's wrong because you think it looks better that way"—you know who you are!—then this post is not for you. Carry on.)

However, if you really do want to have it right, but grammar was never your big thing, here you go. (I really am a Grammar Geek. I have always loved it. Weird, I know, but true!)

See below for all the helpful grammar rules. With examples. And maybe even your last name—or one similar to it—so you can get it right if you want to. 

And this is all you're going to get. Because, after all, this:

Plurals and Possessives of Names
If you have a straightforward name that doesn't end in any problematic letters, things are pretty straightforward:

* Lucy Clark

* Lucy Clark's book

* Lucy's book

* the Clark family

* eat with the Clarks

* eat at the Clarks' home (because it belongs to all of them)

* Love, the Clarks (not Love, the Clark's)

The main "rule" to remember is that you never, never, never form a plural with an apostrophe. Just don't. (Yes, those of you "in-the-know" grammar types realize that this statement is not technically 100% true, because you do make the plural of a single letter using an apostrophe, but that is rare, so for now, just remember that all ordinary plurals—including your family names—do not use an apostrophe. Ever.)

If you happen to have one of those names that ends in a letter or letter combination that requires creating an interesting plural before adding possession, you have some special things to learn regarding your name.

PLEASE NOTE: Microsoft Word does not get this right. It can't read your mind, and it doesn't know how many people you mean. If you have auto-correct on, it will often change your word to something wrong even if you typed it right. It does not necessarily know more than you do.  It is not always right! Just be careful and check your "think-it-knows-better-than-you" auto-correct function—don't just accept it as right because Microsoft Word said so!

These are the correct forms for your "exceptional" name:

* Chris Sanchez

* Chris Sanchez's book

* Chris's book (NOT Chris' book)

* the Sanchez family

* eat with the Sanchezes

* eat at the Sanchezes' home (NOT the Sanchez's home)

* eat at the Sanchez home (my personal preference with these kinds of names and spellings, since it is seemingly less strange)

* Love, the Sanchezes (NOT Love, the Sanchez's) or Love, the Sanchez family (less awkward)

This is true for other names, as well:

Esther Cavendish

Esther Cavendish's book

Esther's book

the Cavendish family

eat with the Cavendishes

eat at the Cavendishes' home (NOT the Cavendish's home)

eat at the Cavendish home

Love, the Cavendishes (NOT Love, the Cavendish's)

Patsy Fahs

Patsy Fahs's book (NOT Patsy Fahs' book)

Patsy's book

the Fahs family

eat with the Fahses

eat at the Fahses' home (NOT the Fahs's home)

eat at the Fahs home 

Love, the Fahses (NOT Love, the Fahs' or Love, the Fahs's)

Rita Cox

Rita Cox's book

Rita's book

the Cox family

eat with the Coxes

eat at the Coxes' home (NOT the Cox's home)

eat at the Cox home

Love, the Coxes (NOT Love, the Cox's)

Mike Church

Mike Church's book

Mike's book

the Church family

eat with the Churches

eat at the Churches' home (NOT the Church's home)

eat at the Church home

Love, the Churches (NOT Love, the Church's)

David Monteaux

David Monteaux's book

David's book

the Monteaux family

eat with the Monteauxs 

eat at the Monteauxs' home (NOT the Monteaux's home)

eat at the Monteaux home

(Note that this is "wrong" in French, because the name is Monteau, and Monteaux is the correct plural. But often, during Americanization, French family names keep the -eaux form, thereby "messing up" the plurals and plural possessives forever!)

Love, the Monteauxs (NOT Love, the Monteaux's)

Mike Teixeira

Mike Teixeira's book

Mike's book

the Teixeira family

eat with the Teixeiras (NOT the Teixeira's)

eat at the Teixeiras' home

eat at the Teixeira home

Love, the Teixeiras (NOT Love, the Teixeira's)

Rose Williams

Rose Williams's book (NOT Rose Williams' book)

Rose's book

the Williams family

eat with the Williamses (NOT the Williams's)

eat at the Williamses' home (NOT the William's home or the Williams's home)

eat at the Williams home

Love, the Williamses (NOT Love, the Williams's)

Heather Jones

Heather Jones's book (NOT Heather Jones' book)

Heather's book

the Jones family

eat with the Joneses (NOT the Jones's)

eat at the Joneses' home (NOT the Jones's)

eat at the Jones home

Love, the Joneses (NOT Love, the Jones's)

EXCEPTION: Ancient Classical names have a special exception to these rules. So, though it is correctly written Davis's message, it would be Moses' message, Jesus' sermon, or Socrates' teachings. Maybe someday Davis will be ancient and famous enough for us to refer to Davis' message, but for now, it's just wrong.

So, there you have it. Do with it what you will...

And also, to balance things out, here's a great article: "How to Quit Being a Grammar Snob." I'm not quite there yet, but I'm 100% better because of the author, my friend Brian Wasko, and his influence over the past several years. Thank you, Brian. (And yes, I'm still working on it. Especially this time of year!)

Gentle Advice for Those Going On Mission Trips

This is a guest post by my friend Katie Adams...wise words from a wise woman with much experience working with orphans and mission teams!

With mission trip season fast approaching can I offer some gentle advice from this adoptive mom of a child raised in an orphanage (and having worked in Nicaragua for 13 years)?:

1. Focus on the staff, not the kids. These caretakers work 24-hour days caring for the children you are visiting. They’re the ones changing diapers, washing hands, disciplining, loving, and teaching these children you’ll visit for a few short days. THEY need to know you care about them and support them more than the kids. Ask them their names, what they do – ask about their families and why these choose to work for typically far below-average wages – ask if you can help them and how you can pray for them. Care for them first.

2. Talk, don’t touch. You are probably one of several visiting teams. Constant physical affection from strangers is confusing, often unwanted, and can have long-lasting impacts on being able to appropriately bond with others. It may be cute that some kids run up when you arrive and want to hug, but it’s a sign of inappropriate attachment. These kids need to learn to bond well so instead of hugging, holding hands, and having them sit on your laps (please NO!) ask them questions – get them to spend time in a group playing a structured game. Basically ask yourself: “How would I treat children if I walked into an average American public school kindergarten room?” Do that instead.

3. Don’t call them “your” kids. They’re not. Hopefully someday they will be reunited with safe, loving family members or adopted. Unless you are one or the other you are visiting. Pray for their families, their potential future families and their current orphanage family…and be grateful for the opportunity to visit. 

4. Don’t make promises – just pray. These kids have had more promises made to them by visiting teams than you can imagine. Your wishes may be very well-intentioned but these kids take promises to heart far more than you can imagine and constant disappointment adds to their already fragile understanding of trust. The best thing you can do for these children is to encourage their caretakers, financially support their orphanage, and pray. 

I am incredibly grateful for the staff at Hogar Puente de Amistadorphanage who raised my daughter for nearly 6 years. And yet every summer I see teams walk by all of these incredible orphanage staff workers who never draw attention to themselves and miss out on their stories.This mission trip season I would LOVE to see photos of visiting teams with orphanage workers even more than the kids they care for. Get to know an orphanage staff worker this summer – they truly are heroes wearing invisible capes! ‪#‎imetahero‬

The Extraordinary Ordinary

This kind of beauty takes my breath away. I can't believe it's just growing in my front yard!



The title of this blog post is from the title of the inspiring book I'm reading, The Extraordinary Ordinary Life of Mark Rodriguez. From the preface by his mother, who put the book together from his journal writings: "Like Mark, we can have that same intimate and loving relationship with God. When we ask, He makes the ordinary extraordinary. May the words of Mark, a seventeen-year-old ordinary kid, help you to experience this extraordinary ordinary life with God."

Mark's life was ended by a seemingly random act of violence when he was just 17 years old. The words he left behind in these journals have been an incredible gift, not only to his family but to all of us who knew him and thousands who didn't. I have grown in my relationship with God through the words of this extraordinary, ordinary young man.

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*Entry 8, August - The 12 Months of 2015 Blog Challenge 
The title is from the book mentioned above.

Buy You a Dress So Pretty

My daughter OG has moved into her sister's old room. (EV has moved into a new room, in a new house, in a new life, in a new town, with a new name... but that's another post for another day!)

One of the things OG is doing is to decorate the room in a Victorian theme, which includes a picture wall of old black-and-white framed photographs of family members. It is beautiful...both the room, and the photo wall!

When my aunt—my mother's sister and my daughter's great aunt—mailed her the old black-and-white photos, she stuck in a couple of color snapshots from my childhood. Among them was this gem:

Good heavens, Mom! Buy me a new dress, already. Put that thing I'm wearing on my sister, and buy me a new one, so we might not both look like, well... Hmmm... I don't know what to call that...

(Oh, and doesn't my cousin John look thrilled to be photographed next to his obnoxious little cousins visiting from out of state?!)

This picture makes me cringe and smile, all at the same time. Kind of like most things in life I look back on with a fresh, new perspective from the future...

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*Entry 7, July - The 12 Months of 2015 Blog Challenge 
The title is a line from the song "Pouring Rain" by David Stewart.

The Last Day at the Beach

The Last Day at the Beach. That's the title of this achingly beautiful song from William Ackerman. I can't listen to it without getting wistful. This year's family reunion beach week has been the first year that we have had more high school graduates among our children than not... four to three! One of my daughters is married, and her husband joined us this year. (Welcome, Ronald!) One of my sister's daughters is engaged, and her fiancé joined us this year, too. (Nice to finally meet you, Crawford!)

There's been lots of fun and feasting... sunburn... beach volleyball... ukulele... feasting... rain... Avengers and Jurassic Park (must. get. ready. for. sequels!)... feasting... Taboo...  Nanny's cakes (coconut, chocolate chip, rum, and poppy seed)... new pups ("Finley and Chewie, meet the cuzes!")... biking (and even a bicycle built for two!)... feasting... donuts from Duck Donuts on National Donut Day... skim boarding... freezing produce... "Farkle!"... boogie boarding... feasting... hot tubbing... coconut rum fruity drinks and Mike's hard lemonade... The Dugger Interviews (isn't the world talking about anything else?!)... feasting... shopping... reading... Pictionary... corn hole... rain... feasting... Heads Up! charades (thank you, Ellen!)...

The list of fun memories, far from complete, makes me smile... and I list it to keep me from crying. Every year, as the week comes to a close, I am amazed at how quickly it has flown, and how fleeting time is. Our children are growing, and we are growing old, and there's nothing we can do to slow the hands of time. Another fun week is coming to a close much too soon, and we ignore the approaching goodbyes that will inevitably prick our eyes come morning. Goodbye, Beach Week 2015. (Such fun you've been!)

Until we meet again next year...

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*Entry 6b, June - The 12 Months of 2015 Blog Challenge 
The title is that of William Ackerman's song by the same name.

The Beautiful View Outside My Window Today

On a Bicycle Built for Two

These two sweet cousins get together once a year, during our annual beach week family reunion getaway on the NC shore. They've been almost inseparable for the entire week, every summer that I can remember--and this year they even got to go biking on the same bike! Such fun!!

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*Entry 6a, June - The 12 Months of 2015 Blog Challenge 
The title is from the classic children's song "Daisy, Daisy" (aka "A Bicycle Built for Two").

A Complete Classical Christian School Reading List (Grades 1-8)

Here is a great book list that I might want to reference later. Like Justin Taylor, publisher at Crossway, "I'm a sucker for good reading lists." Here's what he has to say about this one:

"There are hundreds of thousands of books written for children. The challenge is discerning what is best for them to read, given so many options. I’m a sucker for good reading lists, so I’m grateful for the folks at Calvary Classical School—a classical Christian school in Hampton, Virgina—who have given me permission to reproduce this list. For outside reading, the books are divided into three levels. Books with a “+” denote that any title in that series would be acceptable. I’ve done my best to link to the paperback or cheapest version at Amazon. I hope this proves helpful for a lot of parents and teachers!"

Borax Ant Killer

It makes me cringe to think of posting a recipe for ant poison here on this blog, but it works!!!  I want to share it with any of you who may also have problems with ants in the kitchen as soon as it gets warm outside. The original post appeared on a blog and came to me via a friend on Facebook. (And did I mention that IT WORKS?!!!)

1/8 C. sugar
1 tsp. Borax (laundry aisle)
1/2 C. water

1. Boil water, then pour in empty jar.

2. Add sugar and Borax to hot water and stir until completely dissolved.

3. Soak cotton balls with mixture and place on a piece of aluminum foil.

4. Place near the path where you have ants coming in. 24-48 hours later, they're gone. (Truly!)

I didn't believe this, really. I'd tried Combat and Raid Ant Bait traps. I'd tried Ant Terro. I'd tried natural remedies. I'd tried wiping everything down with vinegar-water. I'd tried spraying ant killer outside along the perimeter of the house. Nothing, and I mean NOTHING, has ever worked before to kill the ants. This works. YAY!!

Update NOTE: This absolutely worked amazingly the first time I tried it. Then, two weeks later, the ants were back. I pulled the leftover poison jar back out, and it didn't work at all! It seems to be important for the poison to be fresh, so I've cut the quantities way down in the recipe. Just make a fresh batch each time you need it.

Birth Day

Today, the delightful woman who made me a mother turned 21. She and her new husband, Ronald, came over after church for a birthday celebration meal. (Each child has always gotten to choose the meals on his or her birthday, and even when you're married and moved out, that's still the deal. This year's choice? Home-rolled sushi followed by spaghetti with homemade meatballs. Hey, I don't plan the things...I just cook 'em!)

When my sweetie little-girl-all-grown-up came in, she handed me these beautiful flowers.

"Happy birthday!" she said.

"It's not my birthday. It's your birthday!" I replied.

"Yes, but you did all the work!"

Amen to that--and your sweet self was worth every minute of the pain!

Happy birthday, dear EV. I blinked, and your childhood was over. Happy first-time birthday where my home is no longer yours. I'm so very proud of the woman you have become!

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*Entry 5, May - The 12 Months of 2015 Blog Challenge 
The title is from the "most recognizable song in the English language." And here is a super fun article containing five fun facts about the Happy Birthday song.

But First, Let Me Take a Selfie

I know that I'm getting older... and that I "just don't understand"... and that taking selfies is just what everybody (insert the words "under thirty") is doing.

And I've been known to stick my arm out with the best of 'em, to capture a moment with the camera turned the wrong way...

But, truth be told, I'm a little disturbed. I find the selfie craze pretty disconcerting. I'm concerned about what it is turning us into... who it is making us. It scares me a little to see people so utterly self-absorbed that literally every kind of moment has to be captured with the camera facing SELF. It is changing how we view things. It is changing how we document things. It is changing how we do relationship.

I don't know about you, but I didn't need anything to come along to make me more self-focused... more self-absorbed... more looking at myself and how the world affects me, instead of how it is affecting those around me!

Last night, my family and I were camping, and all of them had headed to the bath house to get ready for bed. I had stayed behind, enjoying the last few moments of our little campfire. The embers were morphing and moving in the smoke, and the last dying flames joined their movements in a mesmerizing dance. It was glorious, that sight, as it combined with the sounds and smells of that fading fire... crackling pops... rising sparks... the scent of wood and earth and smoky tendrils filling my nostrils...

It was in the context of this peaceful, beautiful, holy moment that I saw one of the most ridiculous things I think I've ever seen. Across the way, at the next campsite, I became aware of a couple of guys who had set up a tripod and camera in front of their campfire. (Yes, a full-blown tripod, complete with camera attachment.) They were ready to capture their selfie the old-fashioned way, I guess... at a decent distance, and without the distorted shoulder in one of the corners. And so I watched them as they attempted to do so. Not once. Not twice. Not six or eight times. No, I watched these two young men literally set up the scene (clinking beer bottles in front of their campfire), hold the pose (as in, "Let's keep these beer bottles in this fake clink for eight seconds while the camera takes the shot), look at the result (apparently never quite perfect enough), and then re-stage the entire thing for a re-do-try-over TEN TIMES. They wasted almost twenty minutes with this project. Were they enjoying the fire? The beers? The company? No, they were obsessed with staging and then capturing the perfect (fake!) moment.

I had been experiencing the perfect (real) moment, and I was never once--not even for a fleeting instant--tempted to spoil the mood by trying to "capture the moment" with my camera. And, had I been so inclined, I certainly would never have been tempted to try to capture it by sticking my arm out and centering my big ugly mug in front of the real show!

I'm not sure what to make of it all, but I know that I never want to miss the real things going on around me because I'm too busy staging some fake ones.

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*Entry 4, April - The 12 Months of 2015 Blog Challenge 
The title is from the song "#SELFIE" by The Chainsmokers.

(For some interesting thoughts about selfies, you can read these two articles, which discuss some research-based findings suggesting that our selfie-centered behavior is making us psychologically sick. I wouldn't be surprised.)

Now His Life Is Full of Wonder

Today is my son PT's birthday. He is not here to celebrate with us the way he has every year of his life to this point, which is eating his favorite foods--whatever he's chosen for the meals in any given year, and whomever he's chosen for us to share them with.

And even though he is a freshman in college this year, he isn't spending his first-birthday-away-from-home in a dorm room, either.

No, this year, he and some friends have taken a Spring Break road trip to Colorado. Not a bad way to spend your birthday, I'd say. (Beats the view around here today, that's for sure!)

Happy birthday, PT! Hope you're having a blast!

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*Entry 3b, March - The 12 Months of 2015 Blog Challenge 
The title is a line from the song "Rocky Mountain High" by John Denver.

Let My Hair Grow Wild and Free

I received the following picture from my son today. His declaration: "So apparently my hair gets really poofy when it gets long."

That, and you suddenly look a lot like Andy Samberg...

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*Entry 3a, March - The 12 Months of 2015 Blog Challenge 
The title is a line from the song "Find Me" by Margaret Becker.

Happily Ever After

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*Entry 2, February - The 12 Months of 2015 Blog Challenge 
The title is a line from the song "Happily Ever After" by Case. (This song is an R&B love song, not a style I usually like much, but the words are fun!)

Reflections on "A Really Kindred Spirit"

"Marilla," she demanded presently, "Do you think that I shall ever have a bosom friend in Avonlea?"

"A--a what kind of friend?"

"A bosom friend—an intimate friend, you know—a really kindred spirit to whom I can confide my inmost soul. I've dreamed of meeting her all my life. I never really supposed I would, but so many of my loveliest dreams have come true all at once that perhaps this one will, too. Do you think it's possible?"

Yes, it's possible, dear Anne of Green Gables. But it's a rare and special thing to be treasured among the highest of treasures!

Below you will find some thoughts milling around in my head about friendship. They are shared in the form of an email I received from a dear friend, and an email I wrote to my precious family. 

We're in the final stretch of wedding planning and execution around here, and I have no time for blogging about any of it! (The only thing I'll say about that is this: Go hug your sweet little ones. Next week, they'll be driving you around, and the week after that they'll be getting married. Don't blink!)

My loves,

Some of this is addressed to my sweet daughters and some of it to my dear men, but I wrote it intending for all of you to read all of it. I love you!

My dear daughters,

Find yourself a few dear friends like this throughout the years of your life. I can count them on one hand, over my entire lifetime, but they are a priceless, rare treasure. (See note from Christine, below.) 

You will have many, many special people move in and out of your circle of associations over your lifetime, but deep, heart friends—"bosom friends," as Anne of Green Gables called them—are a true, rare gift from God. They don't usually come along when you're a teenager, (though they certainly can), and they are usually the result of "clicking" with someone on both a spiritual level and a personality level. You'll know them when they come along. Treasure them. 

(And know that I'd love nothing more than to eventually be one of them to you!)

My dear men, I cc'ed you rather than addressing you directly because men's friendships tend to work differently than women's. A deliberate choice to facilitate some connection with the spiritual men in your circle—for accountability and occasional companionship—seems to be key for guys. That, and a deep, heart-and-spirit connection with a "wife of noble character." ("Who can find? She is worth far more than rubies...") Treasure her, too, once the Lord brings her along. 

Dear ones, settle for nothing less than the best: a deep, soul, Spirit connection with your spouse. It, too, is a rare gift from God, and worth waiting for, and earnestly seeking. 

I'm so glad I have your dad as such a soulmate for walking this life together, and that God has given me friendships like those I've shared with Christine. Karen. Cheri. Kathy. Johanna. 

Keep your eye out for those special types of friends. They don't come along every day! And work to become ready to *be* that kind of friend, once they do. 

Life is good, and God is great. Above all, love Him with all your heart, soul, mind, and strength. He is, and will always be, your first and closest and truest Friend. And He will shape you into the man or woman of God that He wants you to be, and that will make you the kind of friend that's a rare treasure. Like my dear Christine, writing from across the miles in Iraq:

From: Christine
Date: February 13, 2015
To: Laurie
Subject: Thinking of You

Laurie, I am thinking of you all so much as the wedding approaches. I am really bummed to not be there to help out. When you asked for Christmas trees, I knew you must be planning something special.  

Just know that I love your family and am so glad I know you and Iivo from even before dear EV was born. We have walked thru lots of life together, and I can imagine the thoughts and emotions you have as EV gets married. 

I will be thinking of you so much next Saturday and look forward to being with you to hear all about it! 

Love,

Christine

Spaniels!

I received the following photo texts from my daughter OG today:

Just randomly settling himself on a plastic bag...

With his little toy

All comfy

Isn't our little Finley adorable?!