Kelli and I love grocery shopping together. Maybe it's the fact we were both initially so nervous about being the sole shoppers for our new home, with no experienced mothers in the mix to keep things on the rails. Or maybe it's just that we're enjoying getting good at it. Or maybe it's getting to pick out our "one treat" each. Whatever it is, we love going together. We make it fun.
So it was a bummer yesterday when Kelli made a restock trip while I was working. We both expressed a little remorse that it'd worked out that way, but we had some old friends coming over that night, and we wouldn't have time to go after I got home. It really wasn't a big deal, just one of those "well, darn" kind of things. But that was the first time it really struck me that I really enjoy doing that with my wife. It's a little thing, but we treasure doing it together.
Over the weekend, Kelli and I watched a movie where one of the rules was to always "Enjoy the little things" (Even in a nightmarish, post-apocalyptic world where the "little things" include trashing an abandoned gift shop to release some pent up anxiety. Also, Twinkies.). And sure, it's a pretty basic idea, but in the context of this particular film, it was an ironic juxtaposition. You should always be enjoying the little things! It ought to be a rule.
I think it's important to stop every once and a while and completely remove yourself from the moment you're living, and just think about everything that led up to that particular moment. So many little, mundane things become meaningful.
We had a blast with our old friends last night. And it was great to think back on our history with all of these particular people. So much has happened over the years, and it was truly a blessing to have all of them together, goofing off and carrying on in one room, having a great time. It would have been easy to just think of it as another fun game night, but, for me, it was the accumulation of years of history together leading to one great evening. We didn't really talked about it last night, but Kelli touched on my sentiments when she pulled me aside in the kitchen and simply whispered, "I like this." Me too, Keener!
So it may be a simple thing, but it's really and honestly a form of worship, to sit across the table from your wife, laughing about something stupid, and then removing yourself just long enough to think about everything that went into creating this one moment. Your only response is to tip your hat to the Big Man and give him a heartfelt, "Thank You for this. It's wonderful."
26 October 2010
12 October 2010
That Our Home May Be a Praise
I absolutely love my parents' home.
It was mine too for eighteen or so years. Let me tell you a little about it.
The home actually starts on the front lawn. Back in the day, that's where all the neighborhood kids knew the best game of touch football could be found most every summer day.
As long as there's someone awake in the house, the door is always unlocked, and friends know they never have to knock. Who wants to be greeted at the door anyway. Come on in, plop down, and tell me about your day. There's always someone at the house. Usually multiple someones. I think I can count the number of times I was alone in that home on two hands. In eighteen years.
If there's something good on TV, everyone knew where the party would be. "The Office Season Premiere" and "The Taylor House" became synonymous for a long time. The house was so packed one year that multiple rooms with different TVs were filled to capacity to accommodate.
And there's always something delicious going on in the kitchen. My mom is always cooking something tasty for anyone at the house, and she knows everyone's favorite meals. She'll tailor the menu depending on who is there that night, and she'll bribe you with her world famous quesadillas if it means you'll come over to the house. She loves having people over.
And it shows. That place has always felt like home to a whole lot of people. If ever anyone was in need of a place to crash for a day or a week or a month, my parents were always more than willing to oblige. There's always someone staying the night.
You always walk out of that house feeling better than when you walked into it- I guess that's the main point. I always loved that. I always loved how safe everyone- my family, my friends, and anyone else who happened to enter- felt there. We grew up wondering why so many neighborhood kids wanted to spend so much time at our house. When we entered the world outside the doorstep for ourselves, we understood.
Some good friends got married this past weekend, and among the many promises they made that day was this gem: "...that our home may be a praise to Him." What a beautiful way to illustrate that point!
My parents' home is praise. Ask anyone who has been there. Go ahead, ask! It's not presumptive- It's a fact! My parents' home is praise to Yahweh.
One of the first things I told Kelli about our new place was that I want everyone to feel at home here. I want the door to always be opened for anyone in need of an open door. I want this place to be a safe house- a Trust. Anyone entering is to feel completely wrapped in love, and when they leave, I want them to feel better than when they arrived.
Just last night we had three of our dearest friends over (two of whom happened to be my siblings), and already I see this home being praise. Obviously it takes time to establish a trust in a new place, but I believe the groundwork has been laid by the hard work of my parents at their home over the years. They taught us well.
So, here's to the prayer that as long as Kelli and I occupy this place, that it may be a praise to Him.
It was mine too for eighteen or so years. Let me tell you a little about it.
The home actually starts on the front lawn. Back in the day, that's where all the neighborhood kids knew the best game of touch football could be found most every summer day.
As long as there's someone awake in the house, the door is always unlocked, and friends know they never have to knock. Who wants to be greeted at the door anyway. Come on in, plop down, and tell me about your day. There's always someone at the house. Usually multiple someones. I think I can count the number of times I was alone in that home on two hands. In eighteen years.
If there's something good on TV, everyone knew where the party would be. "The Office Season Premiere" and "The Taylor House" became synonymous for a long time. The house was so packed one year that multiple rooms with different TVs were filled to capacity to accommodate.
And there's always something delicious going on in the kitchen. My mom is always cooking something tasty for anyone at the house, and she knows everyone's favorite meals. She'll tailor the menu depending on who is there that night, and she'll bribe you with her world famous quesadillas if it means you'll come over to the house. She loves having people over.
And it shows. That place has always felt like home to a whole lot of people. If ever anyone was in need of a place to crash for a day or a week or a month, my parents were always more than willing to oblige. There's always someone staying the night.
You always walk out of that house feeling better than when you walked into it- I guess that's the main point. I always loved that. I always loved how safe everyone- my family, my friends, and anyone else who happened to enter- felt there. We grew up wondering why so many neighborhood kids wanted to spend so much time at our house. When we entered the world outside the doorstep for ourselves, we understood.
Some good friends got married this past weekend, and among the many promises they made that day was this gem: "...that our home may be a praise to Him." What a beautiful way to illustrate that point!
My parents' home is praise. Ask anyone who has been there. Go ahead, ask! It's not presumptive- It's a fact! My parents' home is praise to Yahweh.
One of the first things I told Kelli about our new place was that I want everyone to feel at home here. I want the door to always be opened for anyone in need of an open door. I want this place to be a safe house- a Trust. Anyone entering is to feel completely wrapped in love, and when they leave, I want them to feel better than when they arrived.
Just last night we had three of our dearest friends over (two of whom happened to be my siblings), and already I see this home being praise. Obviously it takes time to establish a trust in a new place, but I believe the groundwork has been laid by the hard work of my parents at their home over the years. They taught us well.
So, here's to the prayer that as long as Kelli and I occupy this place, that it may be a praise to Him.
06 October 2010
I don't provide for my wife.
It was 5:45PM, and I wasn't happy. Friday had been stressful.
I was pulled into another department for most of the day at work, and by the time I was done with my duties there, I had about three hours of my work left to do, and two hours to get it all done. I kept thinking I was making good time as I feverishly worked through it all, only to keep remembering different things I hadn't gotten to that week, that had to be done before the weekend started. The day moved so quickly, with so many duties to attend to, that I hadn't even been able to eat lunch.
Somehow I managed to get out of there only 45 minutes late. Frustrated, I drove home, contemplating how my job had stolen 45 minutes from my much cherished weekend, and I'd never get them back. To top it all off, I had been nervous ever since I found out that a large package I had been expecting from UPS would be arriving that day. I was hoping I'd be able to get home before they showed up, because Kelli was working that day and evening, and no one would be there to receive it. I knew my chances were slim from the get go, but arriving home after 6, my chances went from slim to none. So who knew where my huge, expensive package was going to end up.
It wasn't even my job's fault that I was frustrated with my job. But I was frustrated nonetheless. I was just tired of being stressed out there. Feeling like I had to do a good job so I could provide for my wife. I was just tired of it that day. And now work had taken away from my weekend, if only a little bit, and in turn, its return would arrive even sooner. I was annoyed, stressed, and tired. What was the point?
I was nearly home when it hit me... I'm not supposed to provide for my wife.
It's almost like Yahweh reached down and said "You think I have you there to make money? I'm providing for you guys. You are responsible only to be where I have you and to act in Love."
That changes your whole outlook. In the Kingdom of Heaven, a man doesn't go to work so he can make money and keep a roof over his wife's head. A man lives in the world of men, but subscribes to the principles of the Kingdom. If you work, you work to serve. Not to make money. Not to provide for your wife. Yahweh provides. He calls His to love.
And there isn't a way without sounding corny to say that the last part of the story is about how I looked in my rear view mirror, and there was a UPS truck right behind me, but that's what happened.
I was pulled into another department for most of the day at work, and by the time I was done with my duties there, I had about three hours of my work left to do, and two hours to get it all done. I kept thinking I was making good time as I feverishly worked through it all, only to keep remembering different things I hadn't gotten to that week, that had to be done before the weekend started. The day moved so quickly, with so many duties to attend to, that I hadn't even been able to eat lunch.
Somehow I managed to get out of there only 45 minutes late. Frustrated, I drove home, contemplating how my job had stolen 45 minutes from my much cherished weekend, and I'd never get them back. To top it all off, I had been nervous ever since I found out that a large package I had been expecting from UPS would be arriving that day. I was hoping I'd be able to get home before they showed up, because Kelli was working that day and evening, and no one would be there to receive it. I knew my chances were slim from the get go, but arriving home after 6, my chances went from slim to none. So who knew where my huge, expensive package was going to end up.
It wasn't even my job's fault that I was frustrated with my job. But I was frustrated nonetheless. I was just tired of being stressed out there. Feeling like I had to do a good job so I could provide for my wife. I was just tired of it that day. And now work had taken away from my weekend, if only a little bit, and in turn, its return would arrive even sooner. I was annoyed, stressed, and tired. What was the point?
I was nearly home when it hit me... I'm not supposed to provide for my wife.
It's almost like Yahweh reached down and said "You think I have you there to make money? I'm providing for you guys. You are responsible only to be where I have you and to act in Love."
That changes your whole outlook. In the Kingdom of Heaven, a man doesn't go to work so he can make money and keep a roof over his wife's head. A man lives in the world of men, but subscribes to the principles of the Kingdom. If you work, you work to serve. Not to make money. Not to provide for your wife. Yahweh provides. He calls His to love.
And there isn't a way without sounding corny to say that the last part of the story is about how I looked in my rear view mirror, and there was a UPS truck right behind me, but that's what happened.
03 October 2010
To be Holy, to be Happy
"So, how's married life?"
You hear it over and over and over again, and you run out of ways to keep your responses fresh.
"Oh, it's great!"
"I love it."
"Highly recommended!"
But you don't really want to seem like a naive newlywed with no idea that things are tough, too. Obviously. And you're tired of just saying the same stuff anyway. So eventually you throw pretense to the wind and start digging deeper with these people who're really just making small talk anyway.
"It's challenging. Very challenging. But very good."
Challenging. The whole thing is very, very challenging.
But so good.
There is something surreal about knowing you're living moments that you'll look back on for the rest of your life, and just smile, smile, smile. You'll forget all the parts that were hard and challenging, and just remember how Good it was. How Good it is!
There is something seemingly nihilistic, yet so true about my very favorite song from The Ataris: "In This Diary". I guess when it comes down to it, being grown up isn't half as fun as growing up. These are the best days of our lives.
I would love to always be growing!
I awoke early this morning to search Kelli's unpacked things for her camera's USB cord, so I could relive our honeymoon through pictures and video. We grew so much on that trip. And already, all the negative moments have been divorced from my mind. It was the best week of my life.
Being married in the most excellent adventure I can imagine taking. Living, sleeping, struggling, conquering with your best friend... there is nothing like it. And it gets better every day!
But it's hard. I mean, really hard at times. To coexist with another human being is incredibly difficult.
I was talking to my good friend Eric Willis the other day about how blatantly obvious it is that the institution of marriage was appointed by God. If ever there was real proof of God's existence, it is marriage. I can't imagine one surviving without that knowledge at the forefront at all times. Thriving, at the very least. But I really can't even see it surviving. It's hard! But it's so good.
In his excellent book Sacred Marriage: What if God Designed Marriage to Make Us Holy More than to Make Us Happy?, Gary Thomas writes, "If you want to be free to serve Jesus, there's no question- stay single. Marriage takes a lot of time. But if you want to become more like Jesus, I can't imagine any better thing to do than to get married."
I am confident in this, that God designed marriage to separate the pretenders from the contenders. Almost to say, "You say you serve Me, but can you serve her?"
Even just one month into this sacred institution, this truth is patently obvious. Marriage cuts you to the bone, and shows you what you're really made of. And it's only just begun.
Welcome to Taylorville.
You hear it over and over and over again, and you run out of ways to keep your responses fresh.
"Oh, it's great!"
"I love it."
"Highly recommended!"
But you don't really want to seem like a naive newlywed with no idea that things are tough, too. Obviously. And you're tired of just saying the same stuff anyway. So eventually you throw pretense to the wind and start digging deeper with these people who're really just making small talk anyway.
"It's challenging. Very challenging. But very good."
Challenging. The whole thing is very, very challenging.
But so good.
There is something surreal about knowing you're living moments that you'll look back on for the rest of your life, and just smile, smile, smile. You'll forget all the parts that were hard and challenging, and just remember how Good it was. How Good it is!
There is something seemingly nihilistic, yet so true about my very favorite song from The Ataris: "In This Diary". I guess when it comes down to it, being grown up isn't half as fun as growing up. These are the best days of our lives.
I would love to always be growing!
I awoke early this morning to search Kelli's unpacked things for her camera's USB cord, so I could relive our honeymoon through pictures and video. We grew so much on that trip. And already, all the negative moments have been divorced from my mind. It was the best week of my life.
Being married in the most excellent adventure I can imagine taking. Living, sleeping, struggling, conquering with your best friend... there is nothing like it. And it gets better every day!
But it's hard. I mean, really hard at times. To coexist with another human being is incredibly difficult.
I was talking to my good friend Eric Willis the other day about how blatantly obvious it is that the institution of marriage was appointed by God. If ever there was real proof of God's existence, it is marriage. I can't imagine one surviving without that knowledge at the forefront at all times. Thriving, at the very least. But I really can't even see it surviving. It's hard! But it's so good.
In his excellent book Sacred Marriage: What if God Designed Marriage to Make Us Holy More than to Make Us Happy?, Gary Thomas writes, "If you want to be free to serve Jesus, there's no question- stay single. Marriage takes a lot of time. But if you want to become more like Jesus, I can't imagine any better thing to do than to get married."
I am confident in this, that God designed marriage to separate the pretenders from the contenders. Almost to say, "You say you serve Me, but can you serve her?"
Even just one month into this sacred institution, this truth is patently obvious. Marriage cuts you to the bone, and shows you what you're really made of. And it's only just begun.
Welcome to Taylorville.
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