Thank God for Hockey

Here, finally, is another chapter in my love story with Bill....

After the dubious welcome of September 11th, Bill's new life in America got off to a rather rough start. We were thrilled to be together, of course, but that didn't erase his loneliness. He'd left all of his friends, his coworkers, his hockey team, and his close-knit family behind. Here, he had... me.

He lived in a small, dark apartment about 40 miles from my house. This was what we'd planned; we wanted to avoid becoming enmeshed in each others' lives too quickly. It seemed like a good plan, but the reality was that on most days, the TV was his only company. He had a couple of friends at work, but unlike Bill, they had busy lives.

I could tell that he was depressed, though he wouldn't admit it. In Bill's mind, expressing his unhappiness equated to questioning his decision, and he hates second guessing himself. The more I asked how he was feeling, the more withdrawn he became.

I'd like to say I was a comfort to him, but the opposite was true. I was used to being treated like a princess once a month, but now I saw him every day at work, and mostly all he did was mope. My insecurities engulfed me, and we were both miserable. I continually complained about his lack of affection, questioned his love for me, and wondered aloud whether we'd made the wrong decision--which made him angry. I'd dissolve into tears, and then, pushing past his own mood, he'd pat my back helplessly. This went on for a month or so.

A Happy Coincidence?
Just as I was beginning to doubt we would make it, something wonderful happened. Maybe it was a divine appointment. Ethan and I had spent Sunday afternoon with Bill, who seemed exceptionally blue during dinner. It was hard to leave him, but I knew we had to be up early in the morning. I drove home with a heavy heart, scarcely hearing Ethan's happy chatter.

At home, I was surprised to find a message from Bill on my answering machine--it had been less than an hour since I'd talked to him. When I called back, he was positively breathless with excitement.

After I'd left, Bill walked over to the outside roller hockey rink at the recreation center. Planning to skate around a bit, he ended up joining a pick-up game instead. But that was only the good news. The great news was that these guys were forming a roller hockey team, and they wanted him to join! He couldn't believe he'd arrived just in time to catch their practice.

My own smile must have matched his own. Relief washed over me as I listened to the story; this was the old Bill, the one I fell in love with.

In no time, they were practicing a couple times a week and playing games regularly. They played in the old Big Wheel skating rink where I'd spent a few Friday nights in the 80s. Other than the plastic floor tiles that had replaced the gleaming wooden rink, the Plexiglass walls, and the metal risers, the building was just as I remembered it. I might have been caught up in memories of couple skating to Journey--okay, of longing for some boy to ask me to skate--had it not been for the smell. I've encountered that odor in only three places, and all three were roller hockey rinks. It's like... the inside of a sweaty gym sock. No matter how many games I attended, I was shocked at the stench that assaulted my nostrils, yet somehow it always dissipated during the suspense of the game.

Ethan and I attended nearly every game, and I was ALMOST Bill's biggest fan. (Ethan was more interested in running around with the other boys and sometimes throwing bottle caps onto the ice.) I remember sitting on the risers during the first game, bursting with pride when I heard some of the other spectators whispering, "That's Bill. He's from Canada! Isn't he great?"

True to stereotype, Bill really was a star. In truth, he'd only been playing a couple of years, but that was two years longer than the rest of them. Some of them could barely skate, at least at first. The goalie's mom was Bill's biggest fan, mainly because she was better at following the game than I was. She shouted Bill's name almost as often as her son Gentry's. Her favorite phrase was "That's-the-way, Bill! That's-the-way!" On the rare occasions when Bill got a penalty, she echoed my own thoughts: "No, no! Not Bill! No way." She was quite a tiny lady, but you'd never guess it when the Blazers scored a goal.

Like Pearls Before Swine
I was pretty loud myself. I leaned forward in my seat when Bill approached the goal, and when he scored, I leaped to my feet and screamed myself hoarse. I was trying to make up for my egregious lack of attention during the one disastrous game I'd watched him play up in Vancouver in 2000.

Bill At Start of Disastrous Game

On that team, Bill was probably only average, but he definitely had an above-average game that night. Knowing I was up in the stands spurred him on to one goal and a couple of assists. Fortunately, he didn't realize that I had no idea what was going on. I'd never watched hockey before, not even on TV, and I just couldn't follow the constant action; instead, I was deep in conversation with one of his teammates' girlfriends, a very personable girl named Tanya.

In the last minutes of the game, they were winning by several points, but Bill pushed for one more goal in my honor. As he rounded the back of the goal, he caught his skate on the post and wrenched his ankle. A sudden silence caught my attention, and I stopped speaking in mid sentence. "Who's that on the ice?" Tanya asked tensely.

"Someone's hurt?" I asked.

"That's Bill!" another girl said. My heart seemed to stop beating as I strained to see his limp form. I breathed a sigh of relief a moment later when two of his friends helped him up and off the ice. But his face was gray when he emerged from the locker room several minutes later.

As he limped to the car, I had to ask what had happened, and then I had to admit that I hadn't seen any of the goals. He was in too much pain to care. He said it was probably a bad sprain, but he insisted he'd be fine, and he also insisted that he could drive the two hours to the Seattle airport the next morning.

He did manage to make the drive, but I felt so bad for him--especially when we learned that he'd broken his tibia. Man, is he tough!



A Chance to Redeem Myself
Thanks in part to his teammates' slow skating, I did learn to follow hockey fairly well after Bill moved to Texas. I watched the Blazers claw their way to the top, winning the league championship in just their second season. I watched them transition to ice hockey, which was much more difficult, and I watched them move from the top of the I-league to the bottom of the D-league. Over the years, old players left and new ones took their place, and the name changed a couple of times, but Bill was always at the heart of the team.

Bill (Right) With Best Friends Troy and Ben--Circa 2007

Now, unfortunately, I don't get to watch much at all. Most of the games are very late, way too late for Allyson. But every now and then they have an early game, and Allyson gets to cheer for her daddy. SHE'S now his biggest fan. "Go-Daddy-go-Daddy-go!" she hollers. When he scores--and also when he doesn't--she shouts, "That's my daddy! Number 2-2!" Nothing makes her happier than when he skates up to the glass and gives her a wave.

They're already making plans for her future hockey career. She's even picked her jersey number: 8. Somehow we'll have to squeeze in those practices and games with her ballet lessons and recitals, not to mention the soccer. (She desperately wants to do all these things.) I wonder which sport she'll actually choose?

I guess hockey will be part of our life for a long, long time, and that's fine with me. If it weren't for hockey, Bill just might have gone back to Canada. I guess I'll never know, but either way, I love to see his passion for the game. Thank God for hockey!

Why We Love Snails

On Labor Day, instead of resting from his labors, Bill decided to tackle a giant project: cleaning out our garage, which was so full of crap that there was just a narrow, circuitous path to the one working garage door. Now, he didn't ask for my help with this task, and I didn't offer. We both know that organization is not my forte; in fact, my presence would only hinder his efforts since I have a habit of exclaiming, "Oh! Is that where that was? Cool!" whenever he puts something in the discard pile.

I thought it was a peculiar way to spend a perfectly good holiday, but Bill seemed excited about it, so I left him to it. Little did I know that he would find a wonderful treasure hidden in all that junk.

Bill almost carried my old iMac out to the curb, but thankfully Ethan spotted it and said, "Oh! Is that where that was? Cool!"

"There's no reason to keep it," Bill argued feebly. "No one has used it in at least two years."

Me, My Niece Savannah, and the iMac Back When it Was Useful

I hurried over to put in my two cents. "That could be worth some money someday."

"When? Why would anyone want to pay anything for this old thing?"

"Don't you realize that that was the FIRST iMac? Byron and I waited in line early in the morning to buy it on the day it was released. I'm sure there are Mac geeks out there who would love to have this. It's so retro."

"I dare you to put it on Craigslist and see what you can get for it," Bill challenged.

"My dad wants it," Ethan interjected.

"How do you know?" I asked.

"Because he was talking about it just last week. He said he wished he would have kept the iMac instead of you."

"I let him pick whichever computer he wanted," I said, only a bit defensively. "The other computer was better and faster."

"But this one just looks cool. Can Dad have it?"

"Sure," I said.

Bill warned that we'd have to turn it on and make sure it still worked, and then I'd have to retrieve any data I might want before wiping the hard drive clean. "And I don't want it sitting in the TV room for weeks," he added.

"Oh, I'll take care of it right away," I promised.

It was only after several days of Ethan's nagging that we drug the somewhat portable computer out of the garage and up to the TV room. We set it up on the floor and plugged it in, and in moments we heard the harmonious chord of the "happy Mac" start-up tone.

I found multiple spreadsheets I'd designed for the Chevron convenience store ten years ago, resumes for myself and several family members and friends, and... a bunch of letters to my grandma!

The kids' bedtime routines were forgotten as I sat cross-legged on the floor, lost in decade-old chronicles of my old life, right around the time of my divorce. This was a priceless find! Back then, I hadn't started journaling yet, so I had thought these detailed memories were lost forever.

By far, the best thing about the letters was what I wrote about Ethan. Of course, I had written about the dinosaur story and about Ethan's fascination with cows and chickens. But there were other stories I'd completely forgotten....

Grandma and I, July 2000

Letter to Grandma, 11/15/99 (Age 2)
Ethan has matured so much in the last six months, and I am very proud of him. He's about 2-1/2 now. He knows the whole alphabet and can sing it all by himself. He can count from one to ten (although he usually forgets five and six, for some reason). He also loves to sing and has memorized many songs from his Barney and Veggie Tales videos.... The most important thing about Ethan, though, is his sweet disposition. He is very lovable and mostly obedient--at least as obedient as a 2-year-old can be expected to be. Hopefully we will be able to visit soon so you can see Ethan for yourself. Physically, he is still a little small, but he is no longer considered abnormal on the growth chart.

Ethan, Age 3

Letter to Grandma, 2/4/01 (Age 4)
I am really looking forward to seeing you again, and so is Ethan. We were watching an old video tonight of a visit to Indiana, and he recognized you and Grandpa and asked when we could go to your house again. I am amazed at his memory. I don't think he got it from me.

Thought I would close with a funny anecdote about Ethan--at least I thought it was funny, but maybe I have a crude sense of humor. Anyway, the other day we saw a picture of a snail. Ethan said, "Mom, I like snails." When I asked him why, he said, "Snails don't poop on you."

"Oh" was all I could think of to say.

He went on to explain, "That's because they don't have bottoms." I hated to laugh as he was quite serious, but I just had to. He's such a funny kid.

Ethan, Age 3.5

Letter to Grandma, 2/28/02 (Age 4)
Bill built Ethan a large, low table for his Thomas the Train set. Ethan loves it, but my only complaint is that now he won't pay attention when I read his bedtime stories. He plays with the train and murmurs to himself. He says things like "Watch this" or "This is gonna be cool." But he's just talking to himself. I think it's so cute.

He says lots of cute things still, and he's very sharp. Last week he said he wants a baby sister. I told him I'm not married so I can't have a baby now. He tilted his head to one side and said, "Maybe Bill could marry you. Then we could have a baby." And Bill was standing right there! We both tried not to laugh because Ethan was being very serious.

He also asked why Daddy can't come live with us. He said that I couldn't live with Daddy because Gina lives there. But I live alone, so why can't Daddy sleep at our house? I don't know quite how to answer questions like that....

Ethan, Age 4

Letter to Grandma, 5/25/02 (Age 5)
He turned five in April and is getting so mature. I might have mentioned on the phone that he learned to ride his bike without training wheels last weekend. He worked at it all weekend until he could start the bike off on his own. I was so proud that he was persistent like that. He was proud of himself, also; he was telling everyone about it--even perfect strangers at the store!

Ethan is learning to write and trying to learn to read, and I think he's doing very well. He's sending you some pictures. I think there will probably be dinosaurs. I'll let him decide....We play games pretty often, and he almost always wins. I don't know why that is. I don't even have to let him win! He gets so tickled when he wins, but he's learning to be a gracious loser as well.

Ethan's favorite games are the ones he makes up himself. His very favorite game is one he named "Why's This Couch Moving?". Here's how you play: Ethan, Bill , Mommy, or a combination thereof hide under the couch cushions. Then the remaining party(s) make a big production of sitting or lying on the cushions, which of course begin to move up and down mysteriously. The people on the couch must ask, "Why is this couch moving?" until there are audible sounds of laughter under the cushions. Then the cushions are thrown onto the floor, and everyone is surprised to find Ethan (or whoever) hiding there. The game gets a little tiresome for the adults, but Ethan never tires of it. We play several times a week, usually three or four times in a row.


So, what happened to the iMac? What do you think? It's still sitting on the floor in the TV room, of course.

The Thursday Group

When I think about my spiritual walk, and just about the joys in my life, I always remember the Thursday Group. I really believe God brought these women into my life, and I'm so thankful. Here's the story of how I met them and what they have meant in my life.

Before I developed a close relationship with God, I went through some very dark times. In an amazing and beautiful irony, it was those dark times that really led me to God. Just as Paul tells us in Romans 8:28, God truly does work in all things for the good of those who love him.

As I shared in a previous post, I felt God calling me, loving me, when I was at my lowest--newly divorced and all alone in a Chicago hotel room. At that moment, hope was born, but it was a long road back to God. When I got back home, I ended up attending two weekend counseling sessions in a program called The Road Adventure. It was an intensive group therapy approach that helped me let go of many hurts.

While I was there, a girl walked up to me on a break and said, "Hi, I'm Christi!" She started asking me questions about myself and was apparently determined to befriend me. You know how little kids walk up to each other in the park (or the post office) and say, "Wanna play?" It was kind of like that. I was a little put off because at that point I felt incapable of forming friendships, but at the same time, I liked it. I wondered what she saw in me.

After a particularly grueling day in the second weekend session, Christi invited me to go eat Krispy Kreme donuts with some friends of hers. It was late, and I was exhausted, but I never turn down Krispy Kremes! I said, "Why not?"

That's when Christi introduced me to Jenny, a beautiful, gentle girl who put me completely at ease. They told me about the Thursday Group, which they called an accountability group. They said they had lost a member when she moved to New York, and they felt that I was supposed to be part of their group. I really had no idea what this accountability group was all about, but again I said, "Why not?"

Heart Friends
I was so nervous that first Thursday when I drove up in front of Jenny's house. What was I thinking?? I didn't know these people. What if they were weird? What if they didn't like me?

Inside, Jenny and Christi greeted me with warm hugs, and everyone else seemed friendly enough. We sat on Jenny's back porch and ate snacks while Marie and Tisa shared what was going on in their hearts. I hoped they wouldn't ask what was going on in my heart because I really had no idea.

Something Marie shared really moved me, and I suddenly found myself crying with her and telling her I understood her pain. Just like that, I was IN. These were "heart friends" even though I'd just met them.

Thursday Group Meeting (Jenny's Couch, 10/4/01) Back: Jenny, Christi, Britney, Tisa Front: Joy, me, Marie, Cathy

We continued to meet every other Thursday night for a few years, maybe four. We'd sit on Jenny's comfy couch and pour out our hearts to each other, often while we ate Jenny's amazing banana bars. It wasn't a Bible study, though we talked about the Bible. It wasn't a prayer meeting, though we always prayed for each other. It was just a place to figure out what was going on in your heart so you could work through it together.

There were only two rules: 1) everything shared was absolutely confidential, and 2) when someone was talking, everyone else had to remain completely silent. We couldn't even say, "Oh, I know what you mean," or "Oh how awful/wonderful." That was hard to get used to, both as a listener and as a speaker. But I think I have become a much better listener because of it.

Hanging-Around Friends
At first, these ladies were heart friends, but they weren't hang-around-and-have-fun friends. I guess I held them aloof for awhile, if that makes sense. I didn't want my hanging-around friends to know so much about what was going on in my heart. Over time, though, these ladies become very dear friends in every way.

Every year or so, we'd have a retreat over the weekend. We might go out of town, or we might stay in a local hotel, or we might stay at someone's house. There were no kids, no significant others, and nothing to do but talk and eat and sing and laugh and cry. These were some of my favorite times of refreshing.

My First Retreat, Summer 2001

Sometimes, we had marathon cooking days. We'd meet in Jenny's kitchen and make massive amounts of food for our freezers. It didn't feel like hard work when we could share the tasks and chatter endlessly. The best part was coming home with literally 20 meals (or more!).

Christi's Wedding, February 2002

Marie's Engagement Party, Spring 2002

You know how sometimes you have a great friend, but your spouses or your children don't get along? Well, it wasn't like that for us. All of our spouses and all of our children had so much fun together. We spent many weekends at the lake, wearing ourselves out on waterskis and wakeboards and an evil giant banana that skimmed a foot above the water. We ate and talked and stayed up half the night playing games.

Clint Let Allyson "Drive"

Everyone was welcome, so over the years I brought my sisters and nieces and my Little Sister Brandy. One of the best moments was praying for my niece, Mindy, to learn to water ski and then watching her get right up on her skis just as the prayer left my lips!

I'd Never Think Up Such a Thing on My Own!

Clint Had to Bribe Ethan The First Time - $10

So Much More
The Thursday group didn't just break down the walls I'd built against friendship. It was much more than that. Through meeting with these women who all went to different types of churches and had different religious backgrounds, I learned to connect with God in wonderful new ways. They always talked about spending quiet time with God, and about journaling. This was a new concept for me: to just spend time enjoying God's presence and listening for his voice. I decided to try it, and this was how I gradually started a relationship with Jesus.

Then there were the amazing revelations that Jenny would share. God spoke to her in scripture, in dreams, or simply in her thoughts. A few years ago, Jenny compiled all the words from God that she'd recorded in her journal into one book, titled Keep Listening. ("Keep listening" was the very first thing she heard God tell her.) Reading her book kindled a fire in my heart, and I longed to hear from God that way. So I asked him. And He did speak to me. I suppose He was always speaking to me, but now I was listening. The cool thing was that he didn't speak to me in the ways he spoke to Jenny, which was what I asked, but he spoke in different ways that were perfectly suited to me.

All of my adult life, I had struggled with crippling insecurities and relentless anxiety. When Jenny suggested that I start memorizing scripture, I had no idea that God was about to start delivering me from these struggles. Jenny bought me a set of small blank cards with a tiny wallet to store them in. She explained the process: you focused on one passage at a time, one verse at a time. The verse you were currently learning went in the clear plastic front of the wallet so that it was easily accessible. There was a section for the verses you'd already learned and the ones you were about to learn. You NEVER tried to memorize more than one verse at a time, but you kept reviewing the ones you'd already learned.

I really didn't think I could memorize scripture, and I didn't even think God was going to reveal the passages he wanted me to learn. But when I asked Him what I should memorize, he answered. For nearly all of my eight memory passages, I received one or more clear confirmations that I was to memorize them. The confirmation might come through a friend's words, or a sermon, or a church bulletin, or a book, or even through a stranger.

I was surprised and delighted at how much I enjoyed meditating on scripture. In fact, I usually didn't have to try to memorize anything. I just studied each verse over and over until it sank into my heart and imprinted itself on my mind. Twice a day at work, I'd sit on a couch during my break and study my passages. The stress of the day would just melt away as I contemplated God's word. It was a slow process. It took me over a year to memorize Psalm 139, but by the end of that time, it was mine.

Why am I such a fanatic about scripture memory? Because I want you to try it, if you haven't already! Because it has literally changed my life. Over the last seven years or so, I've learned:

• that I am a virtuous woman, a treasured wife, a mother who speaks with wisdom (Proverbs 31)
• that God planned all of my days before I was even born, that he knows me and loves me exactly as I am, that he lovingly knit me together in my mother's womb (Psalm 139)
• that in all things--even my mistakes, even my sins--God works for my good, and nothing can separate me from the love of Christ (Romans 8)
  
• that I mustn't worry about anything, but instead pray about everything, so that the peace of God will guard my heart and my mind (Philippians 4)
• that God has given me a crown of beauty instead of ashes, the oil of gladness instead of mourning, and a garment of praise instead of a spirit of despair--for I am a mighty oak, a planting of the Lord for the display of his splendor! (Isaiah 61)
• that I can remain in Jesus' love by obeying his commands--just one command, actually: to love others as He has loved me (John 15)
• that God has redeemed me, summoned me by name; that I am precious and honored in His sight; that I am to forget the former things because he is doing a new thing in me--it springs up even now! (Isaiah 43)
• that I don't have to worry about what my family will eat or drink during this recession; if God takes care of the birds of the air, how much more will he care for us? (Matthew 6)
  

I am so thankful for the scriptures God has given me. When I'm mired in anxiety or depression, these are the "pure, lovely, admirable things" that I think on (Philippians 4). Nothing else can break the hopeless cycle of spinning thoughts and worries.

This should not surprise me. The Bible says the Word is living and active, sharper than a double-edged sword (Hebrews 4:12). In fact, the Word is Jesus! John 1 says "In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.... The Word became flesh and dwelt among us." Of course, it's faith in Christ and not our works that bring salvation, but hiding God's Word in our hearts gives us power and authority (and wisdom and comfort and peace) as believers.

So once more, I challenge you: ask God what passage he wants you to learn, and see if He doesn't change your life. If you already memorize scriptures, encourage others in your life to try it. Please let me know if you decide to memorize scriptures; I'd love to know the effect on your life.

Back to the Thursday Group
So whatever became of this wonderful Thursday Group? We stopped our regular meetings when Jenny and Clint moved to Honduras about four years ago. Though we only see each other once or twice a year now, we are still heart friends. When we need each other, we communicate by email. Recently, we've talked about resuming our meetings, though we won't be able to lounge on Jenny's couch any more. I really hope we do start meeting again. I need someone to ask me, "What's going on in your heart these days?" I need someone to tell me, "Sarah, that's total crap. The Bible says...."

In any case, my relationship with these amazing women has enriched my life and deepened my faith. I pray that Ethan and Allyson--and you--will find friends like these.

First Christmas Together

Whenever we enjoy our Christmas traditions, I always think back to the first Christmas that Bill and I spent together. It was back in 2000, and he was down from Canada for a ten-day visit.

Excerpt From Ethan's Journal (age 3)
Bill came for a whole ten days around Christmas time. It was wonderful to spend that much time together. We did all our Christmas shopping together (all in one day). He was so good at picking out presents for you--for everyone, really. He has a knack for understanding what each person would like.

Taken at Mom and Dad's House in Blum

What you enjoyed most was picking out a Christmas tree. It was your first real tree and the first one I'd had since I was a small child. You were very proud that Bill allowed you to help choose it. We also bought a lot of lights and ornaments and a cheap tree stand.

Bill wrestled the tree into the small trunk of my Mercury Tracer. Back at home, he was frustrated to find that the tree's trunk was just a bit too wide for the stand. We had nothing to cut it with, so he used a steak knife! He laboriously trimmed off several layers of bark and wood, and he made that tree fit.

After he strung the lights, we let you hang some ornaments and candy canes. You wrapped yourself in a string of tinsel, and I took your picture.

After all that work, you and Bill were exhausted, and you snuggled up on the couch for a nice nap.

It was a wonderful Christmas, though we had to celebrate a little early so that Bill could see you open your presents....





We told Ethan Santa was coming a little early that year, and we went ahead and put out milk and cookies for him. Ethan was amazed and elated the next morning when he found cookie crumbs on the plate. I was just as amazed; my family had never observed this tradition, and I'd had no idea how much fun that could be.

Bill gave Ethan a Vancouver Canucks jersey, and he just loved it. It was far too big, but that just meant he could wear it for a couple of years.

The fact that our time together was so limited made that first Christmas incredibly special. With each passing year, we've carried on the same traditions and added a few new ones:

• Bill hanging lights on the house, with a little "help" from Ethan and a lot of hand wringing on my part
• Listening to Christmas music and drinking eggnog while we decorate the tree
• Arranging our Christmas village and our two nativity sets
  
• Using the camera's timer to take our own picture for the Christmas card, which tends to be a hilarious and somewhat stressful exercise
• Baking and decorating sugar cookies with my family
• Reading The Night Before Christmas for Bill's family in our twangiest Texas drawl
• Singing Christmas carols with Bill's family and friends
• Watching A Christmas Story and Christmas Vacation and sometimes The Muppet Christmas Carol
• Stuffing ourselves each day for a week on Bill's mom's Christmas treats
• Staying up late playing cards with Bill's family
  
• Attending the candlelight Christmas Eve service at church

Now that Allyson has joined us, we're enjoying that extra sense of wonder. May we never forget these little joys!

Riding the Roller Coaster

Bill and I met and fell in love in Chicago. He lived in Vancouver at the time, and it seemed an impossible dream that we could ever be together. We corresponded by email at first, and then by phone.

We talked on the phone for an hour or more every night, and I loved every minute of it. I've since learned that Bill doesn't even like to talk on the phone!

First Date - July 28, 2000

After about four months, we had our first monthly visit. Bill flew to Chicago, where I was once again getting some training, and we had our first date. We had a steak dinner at some mediocre restaurant. What I remember about that dinner is that we were so enthralled in our conversation that we didn't hear the hostess announce our table. After about an hour, we finally thought to check on it, and they were able to seat us. I was so excited to be sitting across the table from Bill that I could scarcely eat.

The next day, we spent the day at my favorite museum in the world: The Museum of Science and Industry. They had the Titanic exhibit, which was incredible. I think we must have been the most obnoxious couple; we stopped and smooched every few feet, and we laughed uproariously over nothing.

It was the most amazing weekend of my life. I had never realized I was capable of such emotions. I felt like the Queen of the World (to paraphrase Leonardo DiCaprio in The Titanic).

Coming Down Hard
Bill's flight was heading out on Monday afternoon, but I had to stay another week. He met me for lunch, and we said goodbye in his rental car. Nothing could have prepared me for the sorrow of that parting, which I was destined to repeat about 12 more times. I returned to my class with swollen, red eyes and blotchy cheeks, but I really didn't care what anyone thought.

As Bill put it in his letter after that first visit, "I am back in my home with all my stuff and the familiar surroundings, but my heart is with you in Chicago.... Where you are is where I belong and my home is by your side."

Bill Comes to Texas - August, 2000
Bill flew down to see me and meet my family the next month. Three-year-old Ethan climbed right into his lap, and they've been buddies ever since. The rest of my family loved Bill as well. The highlights of his visit were:

• Washing dishes together at Mom and Dad's house, our hands brushing in the warm, soapy water
• Going to church together
• Bill's first taste of homemade ice cream, my mom's specialty
• Lying on my living room floor watching a Winnie the Pooh video with Bill, Ethan, my sister Emily, and my two nieces

When we finished that video, I was surprised to see that Bill had tears in his eyes. Had he been so moved by the positive message of the Pooh story? No. He was just overjoyed to be experiencing a moment in my everyday life. Emily, three-year-old Hillary, and one-year-old Savannah lived with me and Ethan in my two-bedroom house at the time, and Bill was used to hearing the craziness of our life over the phone: "No, Sissy! Don't put the toothbrush in the toilet! No, Sissy, don't color on the wall!" Now he was experiencing it all first hand, if only for a short time.

Bill happened to be there for one of the hottest days on record, when it was 111 degrees! I was stunned to learn that he was enjoying the heat. In Vancouver, it rains a lot, even in the summer, and he was really relishing the dry heat. I told him to try living with 100+ temperatures for over 50 days and then tell me whether he liked it!

When I dropped Bill at the airport the next day, both of us cried when we heard "Last call for Vancouver!"

The Roller Coaster
Over the next 13 months, we alternated flying back and forth to Vancouver and Texas, with an occasional rendezvous in Chicago. Our emotions followed the same crazy but predictable cycle each month. After a visit, we'd be depressed for several days, then we'd resign ourselves to being apart. I'd receive Bill's pictures after a week or so, almost always accompanied by a romantic letter on cologne-scented notebook paper. This would lift my spirits immensely.

By the middle of the month, we'd start counting down the days, and anticipation would build to a fever pitch. On the last day, usually a Friday, we'd email back and forth the number of hours left.

At last, one of us would be on the four-hour flight and the other would be preparing. For me, that meant shaving my legs for the first time in a month (seriously!), removing my toenail polish from the last visit, and applying a fresh coat of paint to fingernails and toenails. For Bill, it usually meant making the two-hour drive to Seattle (because it was cheaper to fly to and from there than Vancouver).

The most delicious moment of all was watching the passengers emerge from the jetway, straining to spot Bill. (This was before September 11th.) Our eyes would meet, and our faces would light up with a huge smile. We would hold each other so tightly that we could barely breathe, and we would sway back and forth. Then we would cover each other's faces in soft kisses.

We savored our walk to baggage claim, our fingers entwined, hands swinging, walking so close that we bumped each other and had to regain our balance.

Of course, the three days--or even the ten days at Christmas--always passed with dizzying speed, and then we were back to the agony of separation. This pattern never got easier. It seemed that the lows got lower and lower. In the end, we were running out of money and vacation time, and we didn't know what would happen if Bill's L-1 Visa didn't get approved. But that's another story.

Although I would never want to go back to that year of long-distance love, it definitely had its advantages.

• It was wildly romantic.
  
• I felt like a princess whenever we were together.
  
• There were stacks of love letters and love songs on CDs.
• I got to enjoy some really beautiful terrain: mountains and rain forest and lush flowers.
  

Most importantly, the situation gave me time to be alone and find my own way after my divorce. I think our relationship is much stronger than it might have been if we had had a "normal" dating relationship at the start.

Eight Years Later It's funny how fondly I look back on those days even though I was so desperate for the separation to end. Little did I know how hard the adjustment would be when we became just an everyday, ordinary couple. This is so much better, though, ordinariness and all. We know each other so much more deeply now, and we have grown together through life's changes. The love letters have all but stopped, but we still write romantic notes in each other's greeting cards. And Bill did make "Sarah Songs 8" not so long ago!

He Knows Me

Here is the story of how I found my second memory passage, and a little about what it has meant to me...

Rock Bottom
Around August of 2000, I went to Chicago for one of my many training classes for work. This was usually a fun time to get away from responsibilities and have fun with friends from all around the continent. But this trip was different.

One night, after I'd been there a couple of days, I woke up with a start. My heart was racing, and I felt a crushing weight on my chest. My breath came in short gasps. I felt absolute panic as I mentally reviewed the mess I'd made of my life.

I was 30 years old when my life fell apart. Funny, I'd always thought that I'd be wise and settled by that age. Instead, my 11-year marriage ended in a messy divorce and a scary custody battle, and everything I thought I knew about myself seemed to be a lie.

This was not the first time I'd experienced a panic attack in the middle of the night. A few times toward the end of my first marriage I'd woken up feeling trapped--I'd think about spending a lifetime in that marriage, and I'd feel such hopelessness, as if there was no chance that I'd ever be happy again. I never dreamed we would get a divorce because I was very opposed to it morally, but the strength of our convictions was not enough to keep us together.

Since I'd felt so desperate to be free, I thought that the divorce would be a relief. So why was I still feeling so trapped? To complicate matters, I was already head over heels in love with the man of my dreams. The happiness I thought I'd been searching for was nearly within my grasp, but now I felt worse than ever. I felt unworthy of love and incapable of loving anyone in a healthy way. I knew it was too soon to get involved, but I was afraid to end it because Bill seemed so perfect for me. I figured it was only a matter of time before I would destroy this new relationship. And I felt powerless to change anything. I realized now that even though I could get away from an unhappy marriage, I could never escape from myself.

At that moment, I just wanted to die. It's not that I wanted to actually kill myself, just that living seemed too hard. If I could have willed myself to fall asleep and never wake up again, I might have done that. Instead, I called out to God. "Please! I need to hear something from you. Help me!"

I turned on the light and opened the night stand, hoping there would be a Gideon's Bible there. I was so thankful when I found it. I had no idea what to read, so I just opened it up at random. I landed on Psalm 139 and started reading. As I read, the tears I'd been holding back for so long--years, actually--started flowing freely. Here's what I read...

The Passage

1 O LORD, you have searched me
and you know me.
2 You know when I sit and when I rise;
you perceive my thoughts from afar.
3 You discern my going out and my lying down;
you are familiar with all my ways.
4 Before a word is on my tongue
you know it completely, O LORD.
5 You hem me in—behind and before;
you have laid your hand upon me.
6 Such knowledge is too wonderful for me,
too lofty for me to attain.
7 Where can I go from your Spirit?
Where can I flee from your presence?
8 If I go up to the heavens, you are there;
if I make my bed in the depths, you are there.
9 If I rise on the wings of the dawn,
if I settle on the far side of the sea,
10 even there your hand will guide me,
your right hand will hold me fast.
11 If I say, "Surely the darkness will hide me
and the light become night around me,"
12 even the darkness will not be dark to you;
the night will shine like the day,
for darkness is as light to you.
13 For you created my inmost being;
you knit me together in my mother's womb.
14 I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made;
your works are wonderful,
I know that full well.
15 My frame was not hidden from you
when I was made in the secret place.
When I was woven together in the depths of the earth,
16 your eyes saw my unformed body.
All the days ordained for me
were written in your book
before one of them came to be.
17 How precious to me are your thoughts, O God!
How vast is the sum of them!
18 Were I to count them,
they would outnumber the grains of sand.
When I awake,
I am still with you.
19 If only you would slay the wicked, O God!
Away from me, you bloodthirsty men!
20 They speak of you with evil intent;
your adversaries misuse your name.
21 Do I not hate those who hate you, O LORD,
and abhor those who rise up against you?
22 I have nothing but hatred for them;
I count them my enemies.
23 Search me, O God, and know my heart;
test me and know my anxious thoughts.
24 See if there is any offensive way in me,
and lead me in the way everlasting.

My Response
I felt so soothed by this passage on so many levels. I realized that God was right there with me, that the darkness of my anguish could not hide me from him. There was nowhere I could go, even to the depths of hell, where his Spirit couldn't find me.

Not only did God know where I was, he also knew who I was and what I was feeling... and he loved me exactly as I was! He had his hand on me, and I was going to be OK. Further, I realized I had no business feeling worthless and unlovable because he had lovingly made me. I marveled at the idea of God skillfully knitting me together in my mother's womb.

Although I didn't hear an audible voice, I was sure God had answered my cry for help. I knew he had a plan for my life, and I could trust him. I went back to sleep, and I woke up feeling hopeful. As he'd promised, God was still with me.

Eight Years Later
I didn't decide to memorize Psalm 139 until several years later, but I returned to it often. Over the years, that passage has encouraged me in many different circumstances. I now consider it my "life passage." Whenever I'm feeling hopeless or anxious (which still happens more often than I'd like to admit), I can quote it to myself; I never get tired of hearing that beautiful message. I'll share more in future posts about what I learned through memorizing it.