We were home the WHOLE month of December and it was good.
We continued walking five miles a day, praying for snow, and preparing for our family Christmas reunion: the first one in New England since 2015 and the first all being together for Christmas since 2019.
We had very high expectations.
Ministry events in December included Engagement Matters, the Patriots women’s study, and LOTS of counseling, but that left plenty of time for decorating the house inside and out, getting together with friends, wrapping and sending packages, sewing Christmas jammies, making gingerbread houses, and preparing for our long-awaited reunion which was to commence the 22nd of December.
Since my last post on Dec. 27, we’ve only been home eight days.
Maybe that contributes to me forgetting that when I last wrote, my reflections ended with Engagement Matters (EM), which was held Dec. 4–5, and not after Christmas, which the blog post date would indicate.
Whatever the reasons, before I write about our most recent last three weeks—which literally took us to the four corners of our great nation—we must finish December. Strangely, that seems SO long ago already. But what fun to sift back through my December photo library and have many sweet memories surface.
It happened.
The “decades birthday-family reunion” celebration, postponed for a full year, is now in the books, but even more deeply, in our hearts.
It was uncertain until an hour before the six flying from Oakland were to depart due to two lost Covid tests, but mercifully, new tests were done at 6 am, the results of which were registered less than 60 minutes prior to boarding.
The trip was on.
It was a sweltering summer day in Louisiana. My 8-year-old self stood in the kitchen of my paternal grandparents’ home in Shreveport, watching with fascination as Grandma Collins stirred the hot pot of boiling figs, on their way to becoming preserves. With sweat running down her brow, just beneath the thin brown elastic that kept her hair net in place over her thinning curly hair, she turned to me and said, “You know, Virginia, the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.” With that piece of wisdom pronounced, she simultaneously clicked her cheek and winked her eye at her wide-eyed granddaughter, leaving an unforgettable impression.
My plans to write “Part 2” have been derailed by the maelstrom of craziness driven by the Coronavirus Pandemic. I’m taking a break from all Coronavirus talk to take us back a month ago, when "Life as We Always Knew It” was all we really knew. What a difference a month has made!!
After speaking in Maine for the Valentine’s event, we flew to California for the annual ProAthletes Outreach “Increase” conference, which we fronted by spending two days with my dear mama. As per usual, I “made" her go on a field trip each day because getting out is good for everyone. Off to Coronado we went for Paul to get his every 4–6 week haircut by his favorite barber, and while he was getting shorn, my mom and I rolled through town. This photo was taken by accidental tourists, who just happened to be from Lexington, MA!! Small world moment. The time with my mom is never enough but we’re always so grateful for any time we have with her.
Our very full speaking schedule picked up after having one weekend “home” in February (the 16-18th), and the past month has seen us in North Carolina, Oahu, Pennsylvania, and Boston. Whew! We’re thankful for so many great opportunities and continue to be so grateful for good health and an ever deepening passion to continue encouraging marriages and families.
I don’t know if anyone else is reeling from the calendar date and wondering how we got here so quickly, but I am. The past six weeks are a bit of a blur so the expectation of being home the next three weeks (the longest stretch since we moved to Fairfax in August) brings great comfort.
When the present busyness of the holidays seems like a restful, slow-down-and-smell-the-roses period of time, you know you’ve been on a tear.
So in the dark early morning on this 32-degree day in northern Virginia, it’s good to sit by candlelight and reflect on what has filled the days since Nov. 1.
What’s not to love about a New England fall? We’ve been mesmerized by the most incredible parade of exquisite, show-stopping color over the past four weeks and I have about 500 photos to prove it. :) Leaves crunching underfoot have provided the soundtrack for an ever-changing treescape donned in reds, oranges, salmon, and yellows. It’s been spectacular.
Beyond exhilarating.
Autumn is heavily weighted with some of the most delightful activities, events, tastes, and sights of the year. Apple picking. Apple cider. Apple cider doughnuts. Apple pies. Cranberry harvest. Pumpkins. Pumpkins. And more pumpkins. Football. Visits from friends who are lured by leaf peeping promises. Crisp air. Falling temps. Harvest fairs.
Hola!!
Buenas días desde México!! I write today, on Mother’s Day, from a little plumbing-less cabin in Rancho Abierto, the YWAM Family DTS base in “Nowhere, Mexico.” Obviously, we are somewhere—somewhere where God is doing a great work—but this little base has no town name attached to it, hence, “Nowhere.” This is our second year in a row speaking here and since we’re here for two weeks this time, I’m finding “down time” on this Sabbath to log an update on our crazy good life, privileged to proclaim the hope of the gospel as seen in marriage and family.
