The Story You've Been Waiting to Hear

 I have had a lot of people asking me for the details of the new relationship in my life. I thought rather than write it numerous times on Facebook, I would just summarize it here and then you can read it if you want. So, here goes...

I wanted to go to a real live service on Christmas Eve 2020. We had lost so many privileges due to Covid-19, this was one more that was potentially taken away. Because my own church was only doing virtual services, I was searching for a church that was meeting. As a nurse in a hospital, I have worked every other Christmas Eve for about the past 35 years...maybe not consecutive, but often enough that on a year I am not working, going to a service has become of great importance to me. I mentioned this to a friend of mine who informed me that her church was meeting and I was welcome to come. I was speaking to another friend at church about the service and she too was disappointed that there was not a live service at our church. We decided to go together to Cross Pointe church on Christmas Eve.

My friend is single also and on the way to church had told me that her close group of girlfriends had encouraged her to move on in life and find a man. It was time. She told me about an online dating service called, "Silver Singles" for the over 50 crowd. My immediate response was, "OK, hope that works for you, I am not going that direction right now."

Well, with a bit of encouragement from a lot of my co-workers, I decided that really the only way I would meet someone with potential relationship interest was to go to a dating site. So, on December 27, I created an account on Silver Singles and started my journey. 

On my profile, I answered the "What is most important to you"? question this way; "The most important thing in my life is my relationship with Jesus Christ. It is something I work on daily and I will not waver on this." My thoughts were that it would scare off 99.99999999% of anyone, then I could say that online dating doesn't work and move on. 

I don't recall the actual day that I got a message from a man named "Michael" age 66 from Wauwatosa. I think it was the 29. He said, "I like what you say about Jesus!" I was still a bit skeptical. I mean, maybe he just thought it was a loosely thought out answer and really he didn't care one way or the other. I replied with something like, "Felt it was a good place to start, then no surprises later." 

We started chatting about things and it seemed as though we could at least converse. That was a plus. One of his interests was reading. I thought knowing what someone is reading really says a lot about a person. So I asked him what he was reading. He told me the book "Heaven" by Randy Alcorn and then some other book that sounded way too deep and philosophical for me. But the next part was the part that really got me, he said, "I try to read my Bible every day." TRY...the word that struck me. He didn't claim to be a perfect scholar of the Bible and he showed me in that one word that he was an honest man, not trying to make a good impression. 

So, we continued on corresponding in the site. I was scheduled to have shoulder surgery on January 8. I had told him that I would be having that done. The day before my surgery, the conversation seemed to have stopped. I was a bit disappointed, thinking this all was too good to be true and he probably found someone else and I would be left to wait on another. Then, just before getting ready for bed, a VERY long message came from Michael answering every question I had posed. I worried too about what denomination he attended. Most of his answers to questions regarding his relationship with Jesus seemed real and acceptable, but I feared he would tell me he attended a mainstream church and I would have to "convert" him. By the end of that long message, he told me that for 22 years he has been attending an Assembly of God church. I am thinking he was a bit worried about how I would respond to that, I think the next paragraph was saying, "I hope you understand that there is a good reason I go there and that you are all right with it." That isn't what he said, but I am thinking it may be what it really meant. 

I knew that there was one church in the Milwaukee area that the pastor is a son-in-law of some friends of mine. So, I asked which church in the area he attended. He said, "The Bridge". Then I asked who was the pastor, and before he could respond, I googled it and realized it was the church pastored by Todd Pope, the person I had a bit of connection to. Suffice it to say, I was pretty excited. 

Being the shy person that I am (I really am, I just sometimes become bold) I asked if there was a chance we could exchange phone numbers. Then I realized I didn't really need to ask, so I just told him mine. He sent me a text soon after and told me he was headed to bed. He hoped all went well for my surgery the next day, good night!

On Friday morning, I got a text from him sending a blessing for my day, followed shortly after by a phone call. The conversation went something like this:

Mike: Hi, I just called to tell you that I am glad I went to bed early last night because it allowed me time to spend in my Bible this morning. I wanted you to know I prayed for your surgery to go well. 

Me: Thank you. 

Mike: Are you nervous?

Me: No, it's just an arthroscopy, no big deal...you mean about the surgery?

Mike: (Laughing) Well, yes, I know the other. 

Me: I am terrified!

Off I went to surgery. I know this may sound pretty hokey and weird, but sorry it is me. I recall the moment I came to after the anesthesia and the first thought in my mind was "Michael". It kind of took me by surprise, but it was really true. I got out of the hospital and my friend who had planned to care for  me that night took me to her house and got me settled in. I sent a text and told Michael I was out and settling in. I was heading to bed after taking a pain pill, recommended that he not text or call at that time. 

The next morning at 9:47 he sent a text asking if I were awake. I replied, "Yes. Waiting for you to call! Oops, did I text that out loud?"

I think the next 2 hours were spent on the phone with him getting to know him. He talked about things of the Bible and I knew by the end of that conversation that he was not a casual Bible reader. He told me about the part of scripture in 1 Samuel where the people were demanding a king and how God explained to Samuel that the rejection was against God not Samuel. I WAS HOOKED. I jokingly now tell Michael, "You had me at Samuel". 

Once we ended our call, my investigative spirit kicked in and I called my friend Marilyn, Todd's mother -in-law. I quickly gave her the rundown on Michael and she being the caring friend that she is assured me that she would ask her daughter about this man. Shortly thereafter I got a text from Marilyn telling me that I should "go for it!" He had checked out. 

So, I must have talked to him again because I asked him when we could meet. He said whenever I wanted. I said, "Tomorrow?" He agreed. He came and took me out for lunch. We then went over to Rebecca's (my friend who I knew would be a good judge of character) and he met her. The next day I spoke with her and she said she really had nothing negative she could say about him. 

We continued to talk, he came for dinner on Monday. We spoke every day, several times a day, and by Saturday when he came to see me, we knew that there was really no reason to wait around for the obvious. So, Saturday we were looking at my basement and all the junk. He scoped out where some of his belongings could go and I said, "Well, before you move your stuff in here, you need to ask me something." At that moment he proposed. Surprisingly, I said, "YES!"

So, April 10 is our projected wedding date. Michael is a Network Engineer (geek) and is close to retirement. We have some other details to work out for the long term, but plan on being together and very excited about what path God has chosen for us to follow. We both prayed for a partner who loved Jesus more than anything, and we are both feeling God has answered that prayer beyond belief. 

Conversation in the Beauty Parlor

I often wonder if people ever really listen to their own words. There’s a man spewing out very loudly his opinion on mask wearing. He was stating that people who don’t wear masks are rude and insensitive. That this whole mask debate had turned people into rude insensitive people.  (Apparently, it is only those who don’t wear them who are considered rude) Then he proceeded to tell of a co- worker who went to be tested for Covid. Returned to work after his negative test and had a mask on. He was one who hadn’t normally worn a mask. When this loud mouth guy in the beauty parlor asked him why he was wearing a mask, he had explained it was for him.  Then later in the day the man telling the story said he noticed his mask was off, then proceeds to say, “I just wanted to go and punch him in the face!” Hmmm, masks have changed people? Look in the mirror, there are plenty of them in the beauty parlor, Bud! 

A Call to Fast

 I have been intermittent fasting (IF) and occasionally doing long fast since October of this year. I had done this prior to Covid also, as a form of getting some of the issues of my body under control. I have obviously developed arthritis over the years and I was getting to a point where I was daily in pain with inflammation of my joints. The joys of the number 60! So, I started with fasting and doing a Keto diet. 

Let me explain IF. I set up an "eating window" each day. It varies at times depending upon my work/sleep schedule. The window is the time of day in which I can eat. At the start the window is pretty long, usually about 6 hours. When the 6 hours are up, I do not eat anything other than drinking water, coffee, tea, and sometimes broth. Then as time progresses I shorten the eating window and lengthen the time I go between eating times. Occasionally I will throw in a longer fast, "extended fast" which I don't eat for 24-48 hours. I think the longest I have achieved is 48 hours, I hope to do some longer ones again soon. Since my body is healing from a minor surgery, I haven't done an EF for awhile. 

An added benefit to the elimination of the pain in my joints is the weight loss. As I cannot say I have lost a significant amount of weight, I do notice my clothes fitting a bit differently. I also plan to add exercise to my regime in hopes of getting a bit more poundage off. Oh how I wish for warmer days so I can ride the bike that keeps calling my name from the basement. (and yes, it is on a trainer-I can ignore the call quite well)

So, you may wonder, "Why is she writing all of this?" There is a reason and I am sure you were really not expecting this entry to end with this spiritual lesson that I learned just yesterday. 

Often we hear in the church that we should fast. Usually this is a lightly suggested discipline that is rarely practiced, it also usually goes hand in hand with prayer. Most times when people hear the word "fast" they associate that with food and follow that thought with, "Oh, I can't do that!" I understand. I was nervous to start at first, but as time has gone on and with the right timing, fasting from food has become quite easy for me. However, fasting from food has not contributed to a better prayer life. Usually I can pretty much not think about food if I go long enough. In fact, I remember saying a few weeks back that I would really rather sleep than eat, that I got more pleasure from the sleep and rest than from food. But still, nothing really has improved my prayer life related to this type of fasting. 

Yesterday, there was a call for people to "fast "from Facebook for 24 hours.  It had nothing to do with prayer or discipline, but was a tool used to give Facebook a message, hopefully that without millions of participants the spending on there would significantly decrease. When I saw that, I resisted at first. After all, I had a podcast that I needed to drop and the way I do that is on Facebook. I administrate a group of Bible in a year readers that rely on me. I got up early in the morning yesterday, but not early enough to get on Facebook before the 7 am start time. I considered just taking a peek, I resisted. But then it hit me.

I realized in that moment as a bit of panic overcame me, I cannot go on Facebook until tomorrow...OUCH!!!! "How can I do this? I am not sure I can." I began to rationalize, I like looking at my memories, I will miss seeing what I ate for lunch 10 years ago today. I heard my mind wrestling with this thought. What about my reading group? What about getting my podcast done? 

Wow! All of the sudden, fasting took on a whole new meaning in my life. Yes, fasting from food has become routine and doable. Fasting from Facebook became scary and fearful. Just WOW. 

I am not sure if all of you know, I am in a research study for Alzheimer's. I have been doing that for over 15 years now. One of the questions I had to answer several years ago was regarding the future of the study and asked for a person's name they could contact if case things changed in my contact information, etc. As I read that question, I thought, "Just look me up on Facebook, I am always there!"

As I navigated through the day, I found it very challenging to pick up my phone and see the "F" and not click on that little icon that seemed to be calling out to me. I resisted. The sad thing is, even for a brief second it was on because of a link I had touched regarding something else. When I got on I noticed there was a notification where someone who doesn't usually tag me had tagged me. I clicked quickly out of curiosity only to see a very negative post directed toward me. I quickly clicked off and quickly asked God to forgive me for failing, but also I thanked Him for giving me the lesson I needed. That comment was short and probably of little significance in the long run, but I realized how it hurt, like a stab in my chest. A disappointment that a so called friend had no issue with the attack. The realization that this has become the norm on Facebook and that  I was best staying away from the temptation. 

So, great lesson learned. I did find I had more time to do better things yesterday. I finished one book and started another. I unravelled  a knitting project that I needed to start over. I caught up with several friends on the phone whom I needed to share a bit of news (later).  The time off of Facebook afforded me time to do this and really helped clear my mind of the noise and rhetoric of the day. 

Lesson learned: fasting and praying is a great discipline, fasting is not always related to food. I hope to have more victories like this in the near future. 

Wounds and Scars

 As many of you may know, and some who may not, I had shoulder surgery on Friday. It was minor surgery, just a scope and some cleaning up of some issues in my shoulder joint. I had been suffering with pain since September and it really took that long to finally get through all the hoops to get it worked on. 

This morning as I was getting out of the shower and getting dried off, I was gingerly drying around the area where I still have three tiny incisions with sutures in them. (Sorry if this is too graphic...I could get much worse in descriptions) As I looked at them, I was struck by thoughts of wounds and scars. Right now, I have wounds, they are cuts in my skin where I could get infection. Things from the outside of my body could all of the sudden be in the inside of me causing sickness. That is a wound. Openness, vulnerability. 

Then my thoughts went to fast forward. A year from now (if I am still here) those wounds will be scars. I will look at them and remember the fact that January 2021 I had an arthroscopy on my shoulder and there is the proof, the proof then will be in the scar. I will never be able to deny that I had that procedure because I will have the scars to prove it. 

My thoughts continued then to the realization that Christ too still carries the scars of the wounds. It hit me, those nail pieced wounds have remained as scars all of these centuries later. I was struck with a realization of how much that tells me about Him and about me (you). 

Christ went to the cross. We could say willingly, for the most part it was. He had wrestled and pleaded that God would remove that method from Him, but in the end, He gave Himself willingly to the punishment. Then He was beaten and ridiculed and whipped and displayed for all to mock Him. After which the ultimate sacrifice was made as He took our sin upon Himself, in His sinless body, and was killed by the cruel death on a cross. He was wounded. Those wounds were invasive punctures in His hands that held Him to the cross. Painful! Open! Wounds! For me? Why? Because that was the only way to fulfill the plan. God wants me to be in fellowship with Him, and the only way to accomplish that was through wounds by a perfect sacrifice. There is a contrast to His wounds and mine, I have kept mine clean and covered to prevent infection from setting in. He opened His to receive the sin of all mankind, an infection that He hadn't experienced before the cross. 

When Christ resurrected, He was not the same as before the crucifixion. He had scars. That was the proof, just like my scars a year from now will be my proof, He has the proof in His nail scarred hands that tell me, "Christine, I went to the cross for you, I was open and bleeding and risked infection, took your sin and punishment for you and ultimately died for you. This is the sign, my scars." 

God spoke to me this morning through the wounds of my shoulder and reminded me of His great love for me. 

Do you know God in such a way that you hear Him speaking to your spirit? If not, you can. Jesus went to the cross for us. A free gift of salvation is given to us. Please, consider where you stand in light of Jesus and ask Him to forgive your sin. Then, choose to live for Him and grow in that relationship. If you have read this far and are at that point, reach out to me. I am here to teach you where to go next. 

Bible Reading

 I have put a challenge out on Facebook for others to join me in reading through the Bible this year. Let me tell you about why this has become so very important to me.

My dad was a Godly man who spent hours reading his Bible every day. It could have been considered an occupational hazard since he was a pastor. But, he was committed to it, and I watched for years as he cherished his quiet time. For many years at our dinner table growing up, back when families actually ate dinner at a table at the same time, Dad would always end our meal with Bible reading. I hated it! It was boring and I cannot for the life of me remember one word of what I heard in all of those years. (My sisters could weigh in on this-they probably listened-one of them anyway!) But, suffice it to say, Bible reading is in my DNA. 

But, it didn't become habit until the day my dad went to Heaven. That was the day, October 18, 2014 that I told myself, "You are going to start reading the Bible daily!" And I started. I finished the One Year Bible that year, starting in late October. Then I believe I used the One Year Bible for 2015. I was then introduced to the 5 Day Bible Reading plan that I have used ever since. It has worked quite well for me, however, not without fail. 

Stupidly, when life got tough and I went through a really dark time in my life, I quit. I could hardly put one foot in front of the other and instead of digging in and sticking with it, I quit. That was a dumb decision. I regret it and won't allow that to happen again. 

So, this is my encouraging advice to you. When you feel like quitting, feeling like you don't have the time or the energy-stay the course. Keep going. Ask the group for support. Be accountable to the group or to someone privately. Just KEEP ON!!!!! 

When I fell to these times of stopping, one thing I found helpful was to just pick up at the date of the day I could regroup and start again. Don't put so much pressure on yourself to go back and catch up. Just start on the day you are at and push forward. It will become more enjoyable and fulfilling if you forgive yourself and start again. No pressure!! 

Every year I seem to find myself circling a reading that was meaningful to me. For 2019 and 2020 I circled Psalm 27. Take a look at it. It is very encouraging and for this year I am going to try and memorize at least the verses that really speak to me. Maybe even the whole Psalm...not making any promises, but a good start may just happen. (You can ask me how it is going!) 

So, be encouraged, friends. Remember what the Psalm says, "Your word is a lamp to my feet and a light to my path."  (119:105) We really need a light in this dark world. 

An Interuption

I don't usually write fiction, but I was kind of challenged while attending a Christmas Eve service. God spoke to me about what it must have been like to be there, at the actual event. Having been a labor and delivery nurse for many years, births come and go and rarely does one stand out above all of the others. This story that is brewing in my brain brings a bit of perspective from the ones who were probably there that go unmentioned. I hope it comes together and gives glory to the God who made our celebrations possible along with giving the best gift to us.

 A census? What in the world is Caesar Augustus thinking? Why didn't Quirinius step in and prevent this from happening? These evil men who always think they can control our lives! What is this all about now? Don't they understand that Bethlehem will become crazy and overcrowded? We do not have room for all of the thousands of people who are of the line of David to come and stay with us. This political move is nothing but a proof of power and will only cause us all to have to pay more taxes, lining the pockets of these evil leaders. Oh, that we would have a new king! It has been so long since we have seen any sign of reprieve from the evil that exists in our world. As long as I can remember there has been talk of the coming Messiah. Certainly it has to happen soon or this world is bound for permanent destruction. I only hope that the king who comes to take over can do it without too many lives being destroyed. After all, there has never been a peaceful transfer of power, only those marked with death and bloodshed. What I have learned though, it has been 400 years since we have heard any new talk of a coming Messiah. I wonder if it will really ever happen or if the prophets of old got the story wrong. Perhaps their predictions are just made up theories that really have no accuracy. I personally am losing all hope in ever seeing the powerful Messiah coming to power in this dark world where everyone seems to be living only to benefit themselves. Now, that is certainly obvious with this mandated census and impending tax.

 It has been a busy year for me as a midwife to the city of Bethlehem. Although we are a small little area, there remains women who are working at increasing the population. Tonight, as so many people are invading out little quiet village, I am hoping for some rest. I have firsthand knowledge of all the women who were great with child over the past month, they have all delivered and no one is due soon. A break in the action. I am grateful for that. I can hopefully get some of my own chores done at home this evening since there should be no new little ones arriving tonight. Thankfully, I was able to get to the well early this morning and we should have plenty of water for tomorrow. I have made plenty of bread and will be all set for a relaxing day off tomorrow from the normal life of caring for the women who are bringing new life into this world. With thoughts of that, I am ready to get my family to bed. 

Bang! Bang! Bang! 

What is that? Someone is pounding at my door. Why? I know of no one ready to deliver today. No one is due to have a baby. I have delivered them all. What is this all about?

 “Haddasah! Hurry, we need you!?” a voice was yelling at my door. 

I am all tucked in, my family is sleeping and I am not eager to wake them all as I climb out of bed. Who is this insisting that I get up?

 “Who are you, knocking at my door at this late hour?” I called out, trying not to wake all of the children who were nestled in for the night. My husband, sleeping right through the commotion of this all. How is it that men can sleep so soundly? Perhaps that is my plight in life as a midwife, to never really be able to sleep so soundly that even the softest of sounds awaken me. But this? This is not a soft sound, this banging on my door could potentially even waken the soundest of sleepers. I must figure out how to climb out over the children and get to the door before this keeps on.

 “Stop! I am coming,” I whispered as I carefully stepped between each of my children. Getting to the door as fast as I could, I opened and was greeted by a couple of very frazzled looking men.

 “Come quickly!” they cried. “There is a guest at the inn who has gone into labor. We need someone to attend the delivery. We don’t know what to do.” Men, of course they wouldn’t know what to do, they may help animals give birth, but a woman? Never.

 “Grab my water,” I said, thinking there is a potential there won’t be enough at an inn that is overcrowded with guest. Thankful I had not just replenished enough for my family, but I had convinced my children to visit the well with me and bring back a surplus of water in hopes for one day off from getting the water supply. Once more my mind wandered to the frustration I was feeling about the government putting their noses into our business and demanding that we be counted and taxed. One more reminder of the overreaching of government into the daily affairs of life. Really, why do we have to just sit back and take this? When will there be a solution to the tyranny of this government?

 “Stop!” I tell my mind. Quit dwelling on this negativity. There is obviously a much more serious issue to deal with-right now, someone is in labor and needing my professional assistance. “Concentrate on what you can do,” I told myself.

 Running quickly, trying to keep up with the men who woke me up, I am surprised that we run right past the entrance to the inn.

 “Where are you leading me?” I yell, “The inn’s door is right here!”

 “The woman is back here,” they explain as they lead me back to the stable.

 “An animal? I was called to attend a calving? What is happening to me?” my mind had a million thoughts. I am not an animal midwife, why was I called to a stable? I entered the outer area of the stable and in the dimness I could see a very nervous man not from around this area. Even in the darkness I could tell I didn’t recognize him as a local. 

“Can you help?” his voice quivered. “We did not expect that labor would happen here. We have come from Nazareth to participate in the census. I thought we would have time to get back there before this happened…” his voice wandered off as he tried to explain even to himself what was happening.

 “I can,” I assured him. “My name is Haddasah, I am a midwife. I can take care of your wife.” He gave me a look of relief. I headed in further to the area near the manger. “Heat up the water on the fire,” I ordered the men before I left them. “We will need warm water and as many rags as you can find, this is a less than ideal place to be delivering a child,” I had been in many homes to assist in many deliveries, never had I had a woman laboring in a stable. “What a mess this overcrowding has caused! Did we not have anyone more hospitable in this whole village?” once again, my mind straying to the plight that this census had caused.

 I approached the woman, “What is your name?” I whispered softly as she finished a contraction. 

“Mary.” The young girl stated. As I looked, I knew this was her first. She was so very young. No chance that she had done this before. She had to have been barely married before conceiving based on my observation of her young age. Another contraction began.

 “Breathe, Mary,” I instructed softly. As the contraction ended, I performed my duties as a midwife in assessing the progress. “It won’t be long. Your little girl or boy will be here soon.”

 “He’s a boy,” she spoke as the contraction ended. “He is a boy!” She repeated with such assurance. I have seen many births and women very sure of the gender being pleasantly surprised once the baby reveals itself. This one was different. Her confidence was stronger than any I had seen. She convinced me, a skeptical midwife, this child was going to be a boy.

 Mary cried out in pain. The baby was coming. There was no time to get her moved into a cleaner area. No time to move a paying guest out of a clean inn room in order to accommodate a soon to be mother. We will just try to make the best of the situation here. The inn keeper’s wife, Rachael, had supplied the area with fresh straw while she waited for me to arrive. Her daughter had followed my direction of getting some rags ready. Other women had assembled to bring in water and supplies as needed. The men were all pacing out in the yard, some attending to the fire, some attending to the father to be.

 One long cry from the pregnant woman as the infant moved from her body to the world. Wet with water and blood, he entered the world. Yes, it is a boy. I used some cloths to dry his wet slippery body off as I placed him into the arms of his mother. Sweat pouring off her brow, her face glowing in wonder and affection for this tiny human being. As he cried and assured us that his lungs were working, I assessed his skin. Even in the darkness I could tell his was becoming pink as his heart was doing the work it needed to pump that blood through his body. I continued my job and cut the cord. As Mary held him to her chest, he did what he knew to do and found his way to her breast. Her placenta delivered right on schedule. No complications. I was so grateful. It was bad enough to think of where she had to deliver, certainly she deserved an easy transition from being pregnant to being a mother.

 What was it though? There was something about this baby that seemed different to me. He cried like a normal baby, he nursed at his mother’s breast, he pooped. He did all of the things a baby was supposed to do, but somewhere in my heart, I felt there was a difference.

 In the hours that followed, it was a very unusual occurrence. Out of nowhere, what seemed very odd and unusual, shepherds came to see the baby. Seriously? Shepherds? Why would those dirty animal tending less than human creatures be hanging out looking at this baby? I overheard one telling someone nearby about a bright light waking them while they were in the field. Then, because I love to hear a good story, I kept listening.

 “We were all sleeping except Jacob, it was his turn to be awake to protect the sheep,” he started to say. “We thought the commotion was an animal or a thief, but NO, it was in the sky. Not a human or an animal but angels telling us that in the city of Bethlehem a child had been born.” He continued to explain how the angels spoke and told them where to go. It sounded like the most frightening thing that could have ever happened, worse than a bear or a lion. I decided I would forgive them for bringing their dirty bodies to the site where a child had been born. I was convinced they were in the right to be there. I wouldn’t argue with angels. Angels? My spirit was once again moved to realizing there was something different about this child. I hoped to see what would happen in the next few days.

The story will continue. I am working on more...I didn't want to hold on to this as I developed it, I needed to share. Please let me know what you think. Thanks~Christine

Marriage

For so very long, I have been burdened by the encounters I have with married people who are struggling in their marriage. Jim and I were going to start a group to support and mentor couples in their marriage. We never got it off the ground before Jim died. The burden has not been lifted. I loved being married. I loved that we had such an imperfect marriage and that we knew how to fight and how to resolve. As I may have shared previously, we even had a "heavy" discussion just hours before he died. We were not in agreement about vacation, but we both knew that we would have to decide together what we were going to do.

So, with the burden, I have been putting a lot of thought as to what marriage is supposed to look like. In my opinion, marriage is a metaphor. God gave us marriage as model to understand Christ and the church. I know there are many who would differ with this opinion, but for some reason, that statement has been swirling around in my head for months. When I look at Christ and the church, we are often referred to as the Bride of Christ. If that is so, then he would be the husband. Christ set an example for us as to how we are to live our lives, sacrifice was the ultimate act on His part to offer us forgiveness of sin and security in an eternal life with him.

As I look at marriage, I know what I believe the whole point of it is. A good marriage (which does not mean perfect) is a good illustration of what our relationship with Jesus should look like. A human marriage is filled with flaws in comparison, face it, we live in a fallen world (Gen. 3). My thoughts lately have been regarding the man's role (after all, it is easier to be critical of the part that I would never be responsible to fulfill!)

The husband. I look this word up in the dictionary and of course it gives the usual definition. What we all already know (funny how dictionaires do that). But I knew there was a deeper meaning to the word. I have heard, "animal husbandry" so I was sure there was more of a meaning than "a married man". I scrolled down and found the one definition that applies to the role of that married man, "to till; cultivate". There, that is what I was looking for. A husband is not just the man portion in a marriage arrangement. The husband is the one who needs to till and cultivate. That is work. Sorry to say, beside the work that was related to the curse (Gen. 3) there is other work too that the man has to do. When we look at Christ as our husband, think of how many times we have heard the phrase, "the work of the cross". Really? That was work? I would think of it more as death, punishment. But, it was a work, because it accomplished what it set out to do. So, as husbands, men have a job to do, not only to provide finacially and protectively for the family, but to till and cultivate. I am so thankful I got to be the woman. A man's job looks pretty daunting if you consider all that is really his responsibility. How does a man till and cultivate in the family? I am sure that looks different in all types of situations, but primarily in order to be able to pour out yourself to the family, you need to be filled up first. Spending time in God's word, avoiding any area of sin, being available for what you are needed for...the list goes on and on. I feel most men know what they need to do, they often choose not to do it. The wife: God created the woman to be a helpmate to the man. Not a rug to be stepped on. Not a boss to overpower her husband and take on his role. To be a helpmate. That to me means a woman needs to do whatever is in her power to support her husband in his role as "husband". Oh sure, there will be times when we (women) just do it because we are sick of waiting around. That temptation is great, but at some point we realize, we have to let the man do his job-if we are doing it, he cannot. I could go on and on as to what we should do as women, but I think, just like I said about the husband, we also know. One of the greatest things about marriage that I ever heard came on a cruise when I heard Darren Mulligan (We Are Messengers) say this at the end of his concert, "Marriage is not about being happy. Marriage is about dying to yourself so that your marriage partner can live to the fullest in Christ." I love that thought, but as I thought about it over the years since hearing it, I am reminded that it goes both ways, one person only dying to the other is not the solution. It is the two people deciding each to die to the other. If it doesn't happen in both lives, it won't be correct. We really need to look at what dying to self in order to support our partner to live really looks like. What would that look like for you? What things do you need to change about you that would line up with that sacrifice? Thanks for reading this. I am no expert on marriage. I like to remember mine as good with a whole lot of struggle and work that went along with it, an imperfect marriage. I hope that this message blesses and challenges you.