Every Hour

Hi.

I'm sitting in the quiet of Jake and Molly's house.  Lily is fast asleep after being put to bed by her dad.  She greeted me with a big smile, wave, and a "Maimee" tonight. 

But now it is just me, my computer, the sound of a fan, and a little Bach playing on my phone.   I'm left to reflect on a few things that stood out to me this weekend.

Mom took me to part of our church's women's retreat on Saturday.  If I'm being completely honest, that kind of thing is not really my cup of tea.  However, I decided to try to keep as open a mind as I could.

First of all, it was heartbreaking and amazing at the same time to hear about the struggles many people are facing.  Heartbreaking because life can seem literally unbearable sometimes.  My amazement came when I saw how the body of Christ came together to lift these women up when they were brave enough to share their pain.    

There's a movie quote that says something like this: if I were your enemy, I'd want you to feel all alone because if you think you're on your own, you're not as much of a threat.

Basically the same exact thought was shared at the retreat this weekend.  The devil wants us to think we are alone.  He wants us to despair and forget where our strength lies.  I think in those moments of sharing and praying over hurting women, we were able to see the difference between the truth and the lie.

This song.  Man oh man.  It hit me strong this weekend. 

Lord, I need you,
Oh I need you.
Every hour I need you.
My one defense,
My righteousness,
Oh God, how I need you.

So teach my song to rise to you
When temptation comes my way.
When I cannot stand I'll fall on you.
Jesus, you're my hope and stay.

My own actions are so futile.  I can try on my own strength until I wear myself down, but unless I'm leaning on God, it's pointless.  And I need Him every hour.  Sunday mornings are not enough.  A week is too long to attempt treading water, and that's how it feels sometimes, don't you think?  No wonder I feel like my head is going under at times when I'm waiting so long to meet with or cry out to my Lord.

And this song went right along with it.

I may be weak, 
but Your Spirit's strong in me.
My flesh may fail, 
but my God, You never will.

Before I even went home and heard all these little messages, God was already plopping similar trinkets into my lap.  The importance and power of prayer has been tugging at my mind and heart, and I'm trying to take Him at His word: that we hold the power of the Holy Spirit and that Christ, himself intercedes for us.

My goal right now, is to pray big, bold prayers.  To ask for big, bold works of God.  I want to see Him work, and I want to be continually amazed at His goodness and might.

Well, we're to the end of the battery, so I will call it quits for now.

Talk to you later.

Aim

Pink, Blue, and Purple

Hi.

Lately I've been feeling a little ashamed...  Disappointed in myself...  Pitching a tent in the land of denial... all because I've been getting antsy for fall and, don't shun me, winter.  Ok, maybe not winter with the cold and the snow, but winter with the Christmas and holiday goodness.

Typically, I mostly just mourn the loss of my tan when fall hits.  I know, I'm completely shallow, but I really enjoy not having transparent skin.  Plus I really love reading by the pool.  I do love fall.  It's magical, but I think with working a grown up job and not having as much free time to enjoy in the sun during the summer, I want it to last as long as possible.

However, this week has turned the tables on me.  Want to know why?  I figured such.

It's been rainy and chilly and Jered was home two nights in a row.  (Yay!)  On top of that he said, "This weather makes me feel more lovey."

Fall is my new BFF!  (Although if it could stay in the above sixty degree zone for just a little longer, that would be nice.)

I've been dubbed a fishing widow, which I guess is a common expression in the fishing world.  I probably make it a bigger deal than it is, but I really enjoy hanging out with my husband, and he's spent many an evening fishing this summer.  So I'm kind of jumping for joy at the prospect of him being home more often.

Since we're on the subject of the husband...

Sometimes I feel a little guilty that Jered is always in danger of having moments of our lives shared in our letters.  Then I think, "Eh.  He grew up a pastor's kid, so he's probably used to that."  Aren't all pastors' families aware that their lives could be used as anecdotes during sermons on any given Sunday?  Obviously this is no sermon and I am no pastor, but you know what I mean.

So I'm not going to quit.

Well, he came home from work on Sunday afternoon and expressed that he wanted to take me out on the boat for a romantic dinner and evening, just the two of us.  We were going to grill and chat all night.

I was a bit skeptical, and said, "Uh huh, and I'm sure this has nothing to do with the fact that you said we'd hang out tonight, but you really want to fish."

"Well, I might throw out a line..."

I didn't bother to take a book with me because I thought we would be chatting... like he said.  However, throwing out a line apparently means that you have to cast out lines constantly for the first hour to try to catch live bait.  And sit in silence so as not to scare the fish away while the husband tries to catch them.  (Be sure to update "throwing out a line" in your mental thesaurus for next time your husband takes you out on the lake, k?)  So, for the first hour on the boat we exchanged about five words total.

To me, romantic and relaxing have two different meanings.  Not that we can't relax while having a romantic evening.  Not that we can't enjoy the beautiful, peaceful surroundings of the lake while having a romantic evening.  Those would both be wonderful parts of a romantic evening.  However, in my brain, sitting in silence to enjoy those peaceful surroundings does not equal romance.

It will probably shock you to find out that I didn't handle the situation gracefully.  Angry words were exchanged at one point, but by the end of the night we were both able to better explain our thought processes.  I can see that he was delusional and thought he was being romantic.

The greatest arguments are the ones you can laugh during.  We continued the romantic evening disagreement and have been able to laugh during it, which is why I feel comfortable calling him delusional.  It's in love.  During one of our first fights while dating, Jered stuttered, mispronounced a word, or something like that, and I burst out laughing.  It turned into our best fight because the tension was instantly broken and we were able to talk at ease.  (I judge the value of an argument by the resolutions we are able to come to.  I don't want you thinking I like a good fight- I actually loathe confrontation.)

Anyway, it took me awhile to realize that Jered's idea of romantic and mine are just different.  I did make a point of explaining that his plan had great potential.  Food - good.  Lake - good.  Moonlight - good.  Remember the scene in The Jungle Book where Bagheera and Baloo are discussing Mogli and assessing their bruises in the water?  Remember how pretty the moon looked and the reflection of it and the jungle on the water?  That's how it looked on the lake.  Beautiful.

I guess it just comes down to the pink and blue ways of thinking.  It's such an easy concept to understand, but so hard to live with and adapt to sometimes.  I also think that sometimes I expect Jered to take the lead in the romantic gesture department, but that's not really fair, is it?

Oh well.  This is just one little chapter in a big imaginary book I'll write someday on misunderstandings and differences in expectations we've had in our marriage.  It's a good thing we have so many years to learn from past mistakes and try to combine our ways of thinking just a bit.

Talk to you later,

Aim

Fish Story

Hey.

Today you will have the extreme pleasure of reviewing photos... again.

  

No- this is not my fish.  In fact, I did not catch a single fish.  That would be due to the fact that I never picked up a pole.  Instead I remained distracted from my book, watching the boys catch dinner.  

(Although, I was a super wife and carried Jered's bass by the lip all the way back to the other side of the pond.  Maybe I have dainty hands because it was very unpleasant on my thumbs.  Tristan thought I was very brave though.)

I doubt it's any big secret that I'm not always the biggest fan of Jered's new-found fishing obsession, even though I'm such a pro at hiding my feelings (ha).  It just blows my mind that last time we went fishing in Mississippi, Jered wouldn't even touch the fish to take them off the hook.  He stepped on the fish he caught and wriggled the hook out without actually touching the fish, and now he can't get enough of it.  As frustrated as I've gotten this summer, this moment in Mississippi was what it's all been about.

I mean, seriously.  Look at that happy face.  I'm guessing if it hadn't been for the horns/whiskers/whatever, he would have been hugging that guy.  All that time and energy, all the fishing research, all the disagreements about how an evening should be spent- it was all about that smile.

With that being said, I'm still [really] looking forward to the end of fishing season.

Anyway, this guy was the lone survivor- the only one who got tossed back.  He lived to see another day, so now Big Mona has One-Eyed Willie and One-Eyed Jack, not pictured from the night before, to keep her company.  

And now, to celebrate the birthday of a wonderful man, some fresh, but old photos for your viewing pleasure.  Enjoy the 80's style:

Talk to you later.

Aim

Magic in Mississippi

Hi.

Hopefully if you follow me on Instagram, you don't mind obscene doses of photos in short amounts of time.  I couldn't help myself.  And I know the photos have been on Facebook too, but that is only because my phone wouldn't let me post them for my eyes only.  I had intended to only share them all on here.  

So guess what!  You're going to see a bunch of them again.  Because I'm generous like that.  You're most welcome.  Let me show you around.

I've occasionally been asked, "Mississippi?  What is so special about Mississippi?"  And aside from the obvious (fantastic family time), it is underrated on the ridiculously beautiful scale.

This is my grandma and grandpa's fishing pond.  From here, you are standing on the dam and looking at the place where I caught my very first fish.  In the thick of those trees, where we no longer fish for some reason, I caught a teeny-tiny catfish, and Grandpa got stabbed by its little horns, or whatever they are, while he took it off the hook for me.

If you turn around and face the other direction from the dam, you see this breathtaking view.  Mississippi has the best trees.  They're tall and dense and full and unbelievably green, and I know that's pathetic sentence structure.  

Oh yeah- and the best part is the mud.  Red clay.  Bright reddish-orange clay.  I think it's the mud that gives Mississippi its scent.  I don't know if I can describe it to you...  It's kind of how the first warm day of spring smells, when it's on the verge of raining, or if the rain just ended.  It's magical.

One thing about Mississippi that I could do without is the strange, large bugs.  Specifically, spiders.  They've got massive, terrifying spiders down there.  Pass!  But they also have some stunners, like this dragonfly, who thankfully steered clear of my personal bubble.  

And on top of strange, beautiful insects, you can find amazing flowers like this one.  I've never seen anything like it before.  Grandma said you can eat the little pods on the top, and they're very sweet or tart.  I found it when I was walking across the dam with Tristan, and I told him to smell it because it smells delightful.  He just looked at me skeptically and answered, "Just keep walking."

And then there's the house, nestled gently into the woods, waiting for us.  That is where the true magic of Mississippi hides.  This visit was my first since Grandpa's been gone, and I wasn't sure what to expect.  (An emotional breakdown was on my list of possibilities.)  However, being surrounded by family and the fresh life in Ethan and Alicia's kiddos was good.  

Honeysuckle was planted in memory of Grandpa.  Ethan said walking up to the deck wouldn't be the same if we weren't dodging bees.  Some things should stay the same.

(I swiped this picture from Alicia's photos.)

Fish stories will come later, but we ended up with more than enough fish to have a large fish fry.  Grandma said that it was the best way we could have celebrated Grandpa's birthday, and that he would have gotten a kick out of seeing us in the kitchen.  

I don't really believe that our loved ones stick around after they're gone.  I pray that my grandpa is sitting with Jesus and drinking in His love every day for the rest of eternity.  However, I am thankful that his legacy lives on in all of us, so that we are able to see him in each other when we are together, that we are able to share memories and stories.

What's that?  You want to hear more about our trip?  Ok, ok- we'll talk again soon.  

Until then,

Aim