Glow-in-the-dark

Remember the Glo Worm craze of the early 1980s? My brothers and I collected and played with them. I remember it being the highlight of my Easter when I discovered Glo Butterfly in my basket one year. Each night I'd climb into bed with my little Glo Butterfly on the nightstand right beside me, lighting my way to dreamland. The only problem with the Glo Worms was that after a day or two, they would lose their "glo". But my mother showed us how to hold them up to a lightbulb for a few minutes before bed each night to make them glow like new.

Funny, I had all but forgotten about them until last Sunday. Our pastor was preaching about light and darkness, and how darkness cannot quench light, but rather light dispells darkness. All of a sudden this image popped into my mind of three children huddled around the lamp, patiently holding our Glo Bugs up to the bulb for their nightly dose of "glo". Without those few minutes of being held in the light the Glo Bugs would have faded, and eventually we would not have been able to distinguish them from the other shadows in the darkness.

Way to drive it home, God. ;) I got the message loud and clear!

We are meant to be lights in a world cloaked in shadows and darkness. But the only way to retain our light is to spend time "walking in the light", fellowshipping with our Creator and Savior. If we don't come to Him for our daily dose of "light therepy" we will soon fade until no one can see the difference. And if they cannot see the light, they will not be drawn to it, and will remain, as we are, lost in the shadows.

I love how God takes such a simple message combined with a simple childhood memory to get His point across. Which brings to mind another simple memory from my childhood.... A Sunday School class full of little children holding miniture candlesticks and singing:

"This little light of mine... I'm gonna let it shine!"

The Notebooks

Finding myself with some unexpected free time the other night, I decided to go through a box of my old writing that had been sitting in storage for years. Opening it up was like opening a window to the past, all these notebooks full of childish handwriting... poems, and unfinished stories. To this day, I've never finished an entire book. I always get so frustrated at my lack of perfection and end up doing re-write after re-write until I finally give up. Lately, I haven't even bothered with the re-writes. I just give up or don't bother even starting. When did I become such a cynic?

Anyway, I got a kick out of some of those old stories. I would spend hours flipping through catalogs, looking for just the right characters, and then cut them out and paste them on the cover page. On the first page of one of the notebooks I had written, "Don't miss the other books in this exciting series:" and then carefully penned the title of book one, which consisted of four chapters! I think my sudden outburst of laughter woke my husband. But it felt good to recognize my flaws, how blissfully naive I was, and also the raw talent. It caught me off guard. I didn't expect some of it to be as good as it was.

Of course, much of it was redundant. There were at least four or five stories about twins that were separated at birth and later found each other. A bunch more about large families of children who had been orphaned of one parent and had to set out to find the long-lost other. But there were a few surprises in there as well.

In the end, I found I couldn't part with any of it. Notebook after notebook, each with it's own story, went back into the box to be stored away for the next time I am ready for a trip down memory lane.

Always and Forever

This is the man I married. The man I bore children to. The man I love. Valentine's Day seems to be the appropriate time to declare how deeply and passionately I love my husband.

I was reading through some old poetry that I wrote in my early twenties, just before I met the man that I would marry. The longing was palpable, the questions burning. Would I find someone to love me? Would he accept my flaws and cherish my ecentricities and admire my strengths? Would he be good and kind and wise? Would he be tender, compassionate, and pure? I was so afraid I'd have to settle. So afraid that I was unworthy for the kind of man I desired. So afraid I might never find a soulmate. So afriad to hope.

If I could go back in time, I would put my arm around that frightened young woman and tell her that everything was going to be allright. That love would find her sooner than she could know. And that the man who would love her would surpass anything she could have ever dreamed. I'd tell her that life would take her on twists and turns, that it would bring her equal measures of joy and pain. But all the while there would be someone to hold her hand, to lift her up, to carry her when she could not go on, and to cherish her with his every breath. I'd tell her that she would be loved infinately. She would be loved. I'd tell her that this man would be her lover, her friend, her champion, her companion, her confidant. That he would care for her with tenderness, that he would strive to truly understand her thoughts, her feelings, her dreams. That he would bring her flowers, catch her tears, and hold her hand. That his touch would thrill her to every inch of her being, that his words would captivate her heart. I'd tell her... I'd tell her... so much.

As it is, I cannot go back. I can only go forward. Forward in the strength and confidence that I am daily loved. This man, this man I married... how that happened I'll never know. I only know that for the rest of my life I will endeavour to deserve him. That each day I am made better just by being near him. He brings out the best in me, he makes me want to be... more than I am. Everything I hope to be. To love, and be loved.

Superbowl Sunday!

It's Superbowl Sunday, everybody! Sportsfans all over the world, unite! Well, at least in the United States.

I never really was much of a football fan, to be honest (gimme baseball over football any day), but after marrying a German and living abroad for several years, I'd say my knowledge of the sport is almost non-existent. I do know that the Bears are playing the Colts, but I couldn't tell you the name of a single player on either team. But will I be watching? You bet! Any excuse to throw a party.

You see, I love to cook. And hors d'oeuvres are one of my favorite things to prepare. I'll be serving everything from the traditional chicken wings in a homemade ginger marinade and cheesy sausage dip with tortilla chips, to bruschetta on garlic toast, brie, proscuttio, and a White Chocolate Raspberry Truffle Cheesecake for dessert. Thankfully, I've got a very willing husband to help me dispose of all this food!

Colts or Bears, who wins doesn't matter, as long as I remain the Queen of the Kitchen. ;)