Not losing a daughter, but gaining a son!

Yep, it happened! Danielle Louise got married and is now Danielle Mayfield.
It was a precious time--supernaturally stress-free.
More details to come later, but I wanted to get a few of my personal pics on the blog for now.

I've filled out so many marriage licenses for Greg (his handwriting is illegible)--it was a bit surreal filling one out for my own daughter. That's when it really hit home.

I didn't cry until I started walking down the aisle. Some say it started a chain reaction. Greg got pretty choked up at one point--it's not an easy thing to officiate at your own child's wedding. Matt Mayfield opened the ceremony. He looked a bit teary at times, as well.

The reception was amazing--chocolate fountains galore with very yummy tidbits to dip in the gooey goodness. After the toasts, which were lovely, the dancing commenced and Greg brought down the house with his Numa Numa gyrations. Regardless of what's been said about him in the past, he is a strong dancer!

As far as I could tell, the only glitch was the fact that the soundtrack didn't come on during the slideshow. Oh well, the pictures made their own music.
Speaking of music, Jeff Foskett (of the Brian Wilson band and my brother-in-law)rocked (playing MY guitar) as he did two Beach Boy songs for the processional and recessional.

Oh, and Robin Mayfield and I may have started a mysterious new wedding tradition. I told her, right before we were seated, that my shoes had stretched out and I was going to take them off before we trotted up on stage to pray with Yellie and Krispin during communion. Robin graciously did the same when she went up during that part of the ceremony. Several people asked me later if barefoot moms were some kind of Chinese wedding tradition :)

Thanks to all of you who helped make this such an amazing event.
And thanks to the Lord for His sweet Presence throughout the joining of these two young lives!

Call me the Grinch, but it makes sense to me . . .

" . . . I’m wondering at the present-day pointlessness of this heavenly hoax, the clogged mall parking lots and tired tunes emptied of all mystery, the overstuffed, automaton gift-gatherers buying what they can’t afford for people with too much already, having no idea how to give some real part of themselves away—yeah, there are days when I’d like to distance myself from the whole mess.

But what brings me back are the few simple truths that ring me like a bell still. While the Buddha suggests that we empty ourselves of all love, thereby freeing ourselves from all that can cause us pain, subsequently finding rest, this baby in the barn grows up and argues that we should love everybody, including ourselves, our neighbors, and yes, even our enemies, and the ensuing pain will work on us in the same manner that the sculptor’s chisel works on marble. And perhaps, ultimately, the answer to every moral and ethical question can be found in the simple mysterious words of the baby in the barn who grew to be a man: Love the creator of the universe with everything you can muster, and your neighbor as yourself."

-Linford Detweiler, The Darkest Night of the Year

ready or not, here comes the bride!

"Oh, you must be so stressed out! Aren't you going crazy with wedding preparations?"

If I had a dollar for every time I've heard those words, I'd be a very rich woman, indeed!

Yep, the big day is quickly approaching--12 days from today. But honestly, the ONLY time I've felt stressed since Danielle got engaged was when people asked me that question! I became anxious and lost sleep over the fact that I wasn't running around like a decapitated chicken, frantically doing whatever other people do when they plan weddings.

And not only would I become a stress case, I'd snap at Danielle because she was acting far too laid-back for someone with a fast-approaching wedding day. Of course, she'd react and we'd end up in a spat over wedding preparations (or lack of, in our case). Which, according to everyone I've talked to in the past year, is the proper way to do things.

Late one night, when I was fretting over the fact that we were still far too calm about the whole wedding thing, I had a thought (which was definitely heaven-sent). I'd seen Greg do a gazillion weddings over the past year and in every single one of them, the couple said their "I do's" in front of friends and family and officially tied the knot. Some of the weddings were a piece of cake, so to speak. And other ceremonies were a little more . . . interesting. But I realized that even if the flowers didn't show up on time, or the best man was drunk, or bratty children screamed through the entire ceremony, or it hailed during the outdoor wedding--the couple still got married and people came to cheer them on.

It's kind of like having a baby--the kid's gonna come whether the parents are ready or not!

So after my wedding epiphany, I decided to relax and enjoy the process of helping my daughter prepare for her new life and role as a wife. And we are having a blast! I'm treasuring every minute I have with her. The Lord has given me a supernatural peace (spiritual Prozac?) that permeates my days and I'm especially looking forward to Christmas: having all the girls home one last time (as single daughters), celebrating the amazing family the Lord has blessed me with. Even with all the wedding stuff, I've still been able to bake, decorate and buy a few presents--all without feeling the least bit of anxiety!

So, even if the flowers are wilted, the cupcakes burn and the chocolate fountains malfunction, Danielle is going to become Mrs. Krispin Mayfield on December 29th.

And I'm going to enjoy every minute of it!

amazing faith!

We are amazed--and rightly so--by the grace of God.

But guess what amazes Jesus? Our faith!

Only twice does the Bible depict Jesus as amazed. Once, it was because of the people's lack of faith (Mark 6)--and the other time He marvelled at the great faith of the Centurion (Luke 7:9).

That just kind of boggles my mind. I used to think that it would be my great deeds or tireless service that would impress Jesus.

Nope. He is amazed when I trust Him to do great things in and through me. My faith is the key to blessing His heart!

"For without faith, it is impossible to please Him . . ." Hebrews 11:6

So, if you are looking for a suitable present to offer Jesus this Christmas, consider the gift of simple, childlike faith.

It's definitely a gift He won't return!

let them eat cheesecake

Twenty-three years ago today--December 6th, 1984--we had a birthday party.
We decorated, I baked a cherry cheesecake and we sang "Happy Birthday" to the guest of honor. When I started serving gooey slices of cheesecake, I noticed that Lindsay was missing. A quick search found her shivering on the front porch and gazing up at the wintry sky.

"Honey, what are you doing?" I asked as I ushered my 3 1/2 year-old daughter back into the warm house. "Come and eat birthday cake!"

"But Mom, when is Jonah coming?" she asked, reluctant to leave her post. "Isn't he going to come to his party?"

It was one of the moments when I didn't know if I would laugh or start sobbing. We'd buried Jonah only a few months earlier and we were trying valiantly to keep at least his memory alive. It seemed like a good idea to me to celebrate the day of Jonah's birth, even if he wouldn't be able to join us.

But Lindsay was totally confused. She knew that Jonah's body was buried in the ground (see the "Little Boy Blues" post back in September), but we'd explained to her that he was really up in heaven, playing with Jesus. So when we held a party in his honor, she assumed that he would be able to drop in (literally, since she thought heaven was up in the sky) for a piece of cake.

Tears of disappointment formed in Lindsay's eyes as we informed her that Jonah wouldn't be joining us.

"Jonah lives in heaven now," her dad gently explained. "He can't come to visit us anymore, but someday we'll go to heaven and you will get to play with him again. Isn't that great?"

Lindsay sniffed and nodded, then stuck a forkful of cheesecake in her mouth. She seemed satisfied with our explanation, and we all made it through that bittersweet day. I couldn't help but wonder what she thought about it all, but Lindsay kept her three-year-old thoughts to herself.

We have continued to celebrate Jonah's birthday over the years, although I have to admit Sara Lee usually bakes the cheesecake now (Jonah was allergic to wheat, which is why he always had cheesecake). One year, in 1988 to be exact, we celebrated two birthdays on December 6th. Lindsay had decided to give her life to Jesus and be baptized that fall, but chose to wait until Jonah's birthday to do it.

"That way, I'll always remember the day I was baptized," the precocious 7 year-old told us. "And it will be like a birthday present to Jonah--and we can all eat cherry cheesecake to celebrate!"

And what a gift that day was to us! A group of about 30 people gathered around as Greg baptized his daughter in a friend's backyard hot tub. Laughter and tears definitely mingled that day as we celebrated Jonah's 9th birthday--and Lindsay's new birth in Christ.

They say the angels party in heaven whenever someone gives their heart to Jesus. I'm pretty sure they passed around the cherry cheesecake that day!

Homesick

melancholy: (noun) A feeling of thoughtful sadness . . .

"Mom, why does Amy Grant always sound so melatchunee?" fourteen-year-old Danielle asked one day as we were out doing some Christmas shopping. "Tennessee Christmas," one of our family favorites was playing as we cruised the parking lot looking for a spot.

"Melatchunee? Um, what's that?" I replied as I snagged a space in front of Rite Aid.

"You know, Mom, mel-latch-un-ee!" Danielle repeated the odd word, slowly enunciating each syllable for her distracted mother. "I think it means sad," she added helpfully.

"Oh, melancholy!" I translated, cracking up at Yellie's latest mis-pronunciation. She loved tossing big words around, even if she had no idea how to say them.

"Yeah, I guess she does sound kind of sad," I agreed as we listened to the last plaintive chorus of the song. "Maybe the song makes her homesick?"

"Yeah, maybe . . ." Danielle thoughtfully agreed.

Fast-forward a few years . . .

As I was chatting with (instant messaging) my daughter Lindsay yesterday, I asked her my favorite question: What has Jesus been teaching you lately?

"I've been listening to a lot of Christmas music these days," she replied. "I get so excited and hopeful--about Christ becoming a man." Linds added a very cheerful emoticon to emphasize her answer.

"Awesome!" I typed back. "Christmas carols always make me feel a little melancholy, though."

"Why is that, Mom?" Lindsay inquired.

"I think they make me homesick . . ."

"Well, it's a good thing to want to be where Jesus is," responded my very wise oldest daughter.

If you find it odd that Christmas music makes me homesick for heaven, just think about it for a moment:

When we sing songs about the birth of Christ, we are celebrating a wonderful event. None of us were actual witnesses of His advent, but if we are Christ-followers, we are eternally impacted by the culmination of His coming--His sacrificial death. We weren't around for that either, but we still celebrate Good Friday and Resurrection Sunday as faithfully as we celebrate Christmas.

For me, the birth of Jesus always points to another wondrous event--one I hope to actually be part of. His second coming--the day King Jesus appears to claim His bride and escort us to the wedding feast of the Lamb. And seated around that table will be my son, Jonah, and my mom and my grandma, and all the beloved in Christ who've gone before me. And we shall rejoice together in the light of His great love as Jesus wipes away every tear . . .

O Come, O Come Emmanuel . . . .