Serendipity...

ser·en·dip·i·ty noun \ˌser-ən-ˈdi-pə-tē\

: luck that takes the form of finding valuable or pleasant things that are not looked for

I’ve often wondered about serendipity.  As a believer, is there such a thing serendipity or does one's faith take the place of serendipity?  When you see God at work in your life or in the lives of those around you how do you recognize it as God or is it luck?

I’m not quite sure how long ago it was that Steve and I went to Midland to celebrate one of my dearest friend’s, Debbie's BIG birthdays.  Her husband had thrown her a great party and her children were there along with many of my friends from my Midland life.  

While visiting with her son, who I knew from birth as Slammer aka Sam, I came to understand he was working in Florida.  As he described his living environment my ears perked.  I had heard the same scenario just days earlier from my good San Antonio friend, Susan. Her daughter was doing an internship somewhere in Florida (my geography has never been great) and she was miserable...the community was full of retirement people, elderly, snowbirds...no place for two young, darling twenty somethings.

While standing in the middle of this party talking to Slammer, who I still thought of as a 6 year old blond curlily haired kid bobbing around the swimming pool, I started making phone calls to see where Jessie was in comparison to Slammer/Sam.  Were they even in the same zip code?  It turns out they were, they lived about 20 minutes apart.  Incredible!  I described Jessie to Sam he was mildly excited (a guy thing), said he would definitely give her a call and I left wiping my hands feeling very puffed up and Barbra Streisandish singing “Matchmaker, matchmaker, make me a match…”

Well, it turns out Slammer took 6 weeks to call Jessie, but once he did, “It was magic!”  He finally asked Jessie to marry him last June, I thought I was going to strangle him for not doing it several years earlier...but, the timing is perfect!  The wedding is set for early March.  

So picture this two of my dearest friend’s children are getting married because of me!  Oh, how I’m eating this up.  I have said on several occasions that I need a throne in the middle of the isle at the ceremony.  Or, maybe simply be carried in on a Cleopatra type chair with half naked men holding my hair on their shoulders, okay maybe that’s going a little too far.

So, what we did do is throw a San Antonio Christmas party to honor this darling couple.  It was hosted by a group of our very special friends that have given all of our children showers and parties over the years.

 Jessie and Sam are precious together.  I am thrilled that they fell in love and have decided to make a life together, and I pray God’s richest blessings for this marriage.  I’m sure that they will name their first baby girl, Janet and they will live happily ever after.

 

Sam & Jessie, cute right!?!

So, do you call this act of their coming together serendipitous?  Was it serendipity that I had heard both of these conversations and paid enough attention to bring them together?  Or, was this a God thing?  

I choose to believe that God put me in a position to introduce this sweet couple, knowing that he had plans far above any of our expectations for them.  This is what I believe. This is really what Christmas is all about, isn’t it?  Believing in the impossible, the incredible, the amazing?

“Luck” that takes the form of finding something of value not looked for...I choose to call that faith.  What do you choose?  

I hope you are celebrating this Christmas season believing in the impossible, the incredible and the amazing.

Hebrews 11:1 “Now faith is the [a]assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen.

The Hostesses minus Lou & Margi, Susan, Jessie's mom, is next to me

Debbie on the right and her sister, Cindy

Brooke & Samantha (Slammer's sister) childhood friends

my sweet daughter

my precious children

Thanksgiving traditions...

 

Everyone has Thanksgiving traditions, though they vary from family to family.  Whether it’s a Greenberg turkey, cornbread dressing with gravy, cranberry sauce, Sister Shubert rolls, along with pecan and apple pies, or maybe it’s a roasted turkey filled with stuffing and basted for hours filling the house with delicious aromas.  Traditions are handed down from generation to generation.  Every once in awhile something jolts tradition and the day takes on a different feel, perhaps the beginning of a new tradition forms, these traditions never are intentional, they just seem to take on a life of their own over the years.

This year most of our family was able to come together for Thanksgiving.  We missed David and his family, but included at our table were Evelyn (Steve’s mom), Lynn and her family, Brent, Brooke and her family and an added plus my sister, Cynthia came in from Houston.  It was a bittersweet day and we all had our moments when thoughts of Steve, reminders of his absence caused us to hug one another a little tighter, and wipe a tear or fill a handkerchief full of tears throughout the day.

Nevertheless, the day was a good one.  We were all together and we laughed and ate and played our way through the day.  Our blended family has become one and we all know that the center of our love is due in large part to Steve Boswell.

One of our strange family traditions was when the kids all came home, Steve and I made the most of this opportunity.  We called the troops together and everyone rallied in the attic to bring down the outside Christmas decorations.  Steve had his system and the garland was hung perfectly in carefully measured intervals of tied twine that hung from the rafters.  It was a simple dismantle and a 3-person Chinese dragon parade type of maneuver down the stairs and to the front porch.  The outdoor pre-lit wreath came next, all items carefully marked with existing permanent nails, requiring the smallest amount of effort in placing each object.  These Steve-ish details were perfected over the years, as putting up Christmas was one of his least favorite activities.  Last came the miniature pre-lit Christmas trees that border our sidewalk.  Within a matter on 30 minutes, voila we had a Griswold Christmas!

As I have written in earlier blogs, I have been busy packing and cleaning.  The attic was one of my first tackles.  Now that all the Christmas decorations were out (remember, Steve always accused me of taking up at least half of our attic with my Christmas stuff) the attic was suddenly empty.  I was the last one to leave this space after everyone had grabbed and gone, and as I stood in this large vacant space I once again stopped in my tracks.

This room, that had once held all the things of our life and our children’s lives.  Things that were not essential, but too special to throw away had been stripped clean and this upper room no longer showed any signs of life.  All that was left were some deserted shelves, castoff boxes, discarded bags and hooks and nails with no purpose.  As I stood in this cavernous space it echoed emptiness.  I saw amidst the dusty floor, dustless squares where boxes had once lived...the clutter was gone.  Old balls, lamp shades, sheet-covered chairs...removed.  For a brief moment, I felt like I was looking in a mirror at my life.  Once so full, now feeling stripped clean, castoff, discarded, purposeless and where those dustless signs of boxes once were, I too had my empty holes, the full days of my life with Steve, now only a shadow of what was.  My tears came, the realization that I was coming close to the end of this chapter in my life stuck in my throat and punched me in the stomach.  

These feelings were only momentary, for as quickly as they washed over me I heard sounds beneath my feet.  Sounds of laughter and yelling for my instruction, sounds of my grand children's feet running up and down the stairs and playing out in the yard.  I smiled and quietly whispered to Steve that I missed him so very much. I shut the attic door and went to spend a wonderful day with a family that I love dearly.

Steve always said holidays were no different from any other day.  The only thing that made a holiday special was it was the time that we could spend together.  Steve was right,  this Thanksgiving was special, we were together...a family that loves and cares for one another and that is a tradition that will remain with us forever.

Uncle Brent with Elena, Harper & Harris/ Aunt Cynthia & Harper/ Harper, Elena & Harris/
Everyone Loves Brent & Harper being 3

Colossians 3:15 “And let the peace that comes from Christ rule in your hearts. For as members of one body you are called to live in peace. And always be thankful.”

A rainy cold Sunday...

As it has been across most of Texas, San Antonio has spent a rainy cold weekend, for Texans, too cold to venture out.  So I spent my afternoon unexpectedly nestled in my bed covered in 92 letters that Steve and I had written to one another while we were dating.

As I wrote in my last blog, it was one of those unexpected moments that swept over me before I knew what was happening.  Thursday I did what I swore I’d never do...I gutted up and decorated for Christmas before Thanksgiving.  Yes, I’m having 14 for Thanksgiving dinner and my table is set, pumpkins, acorns, autumn leaves and all but if you look across the dining room you will find garland, nativities and lighted Santa's.  It makes me crazy...and I did it!

I knew the week after Thanksgiving would be very hectic and I knew time was against me so I bit the bullet and bulldozed my way into the attic to grab Christmas decorations.  I need to explain that we have this wonderful, incredible walk-in attic.  It always made Steve crazy because about ⅓ okay ½ of it is full of my Christmas decor/junk.  So I decided that as long as I was up there I would purge, as I decorated.  Every Christmas box I carried down, I also carried down a box labeled “Miscellaneous.”  By Saturday night my house was decorated and my garage was full of unwanted items to be given away. I had been so productive!

Toward the end of my scourging I found a large Tupperware bin labeled JMB Treasurers.  Thinking it would be stuff from childhood I took it downstairs and opened it up.  On top lay neatly packaged some of my children’s baby clothes.  Beneath lay letters...oh my, letters Steve and I had written to one another during our 18 months of dating.  We had both kept every letter and card and at some point I had placed all 92 of them carefully in this bin to store them as treasurers.  I took several out and read them, oh how the tears welled in my eyes.  My heart literally ached as I remembered that excitement, that overwhelming desire to be with Steve.  That love that began and grew and was at first fun, then consuming, then so serious we had to make very difficult decisions that concerned both of my children.  All of those first new exciting feelings flooded through me and I was right there, 20+ years ago, in love with this enchanting man.  I placed the letters back and shut the lid of the box, I couldn’t allow myself to go there, to that place that I cherished so very much.

Today came, cold and dreary.  I tied up all my loose ends, polished some of my silver ornaments, added a few bows and thought constantly about that box...it was calling to me.  After lunch I grabbed a blanket and the box and headed for my bed.  Here I spent the entire afternoon reading and reliving 18 of the most thrilling and wonderful months of my life.

Within those 92 cards and letters, I sent Steve 6 different birthday cards on the week leading up to his birthday.  One of the letters was a Western Union telegram from Steve telling me he was thinking about me.  Many were silly, flirtatious and fun...it was a long distance relationship.  We spent every night on the phone, and that was when long distance calls were pricey.  Steve didn’t care we would talk for hours and then write.

My letters were long and wordy, I wrote things like “I’m so comfortable with you...you allow me to be myself.”  In time I would write of the loneliness I felt when we left one another.  Steve was living in San Antonio and I in Midland.  In one letter I wrote, “It’s hard to leave you at the airport.  I feel empty and lonely, unsettled without you.”  I wrote how fun it was to be with him, how dangerous I thought he was.  I felt more like I was 16 than 40.

We both wrote of our excitement of upcoming trips Steve planned for us.  Trips to Santa Fe, New York, San Francisco not counting all the flights I made back and forth to San Antonio.  We spoke of meeting each other at the airport gates and counted the days until we would see one another.  One of Steve’s letters, “As I write, there are just 5 nights (and just 125 hours) until I can see you and hold you.”

Steve would send me airline tickets through registered mail along with brochures of the hotels we where we would stay.  I can still remember the thrill of going to the mailbox and ripping open those letters to discover where our next adventure would take us.

Many of my letters thanked him for the amazing trips, the fun we had, how I loved discovering all the facets there were to him.  Both of our letters spoke of how much we missed each other and couldn’t wait until the next time we were together.  

Steve’s writing touched my heart then as it does now.  Reading his words today, how could I not have fallen madly in love with this passionate, caring, sensitive, very desirable man?  Let me share just a few of his words.

“the prospect of discovering all the very nice things about each of us is very exciting”

“I like to have things to look forward to.  It’s very nice to have you in my life.”

“This thing we have going is very exciting.”

“I want to be a nice thing in your life now and provide whatever you want from me--”

“I enjoyed learning things about you and in doing so learned some things about myself.”

He made a list of The Top Ten Reasons I needed to go to New York with Him.

“I don’t know if I have ever heard anything that means more to me than hearing you say I am your best friend.”

“I want a place in your life as well as in your heart.”

Oh how I reveled in those written words.  I would read them over and over again until the next letter came.  

I came across this letter that I wrote to Steve about a month after we had been “dating” and I think it sums up even now...20+ years later exactly how I feel about this man I so love.  

“You remain so very different from anyone I have ever known.  You are intricate and you operate on so many various levels that I find discovering who you are such an adventure. You are funny, witty, quick...It’s fun to learn of your little quirks--your great love for cotton socks, your even greater passion for crunchy peanut butter on a spoon at odd times of the day. The intensity in which you park you car in inexplainable spots so that you can be assured of leaving with great ease.  I like the way you make people feel good about who they are--”officer” seems the most perfect example, although I could list a dozen, no maybe a “zillion” ways you have enabled me to feel very special about who I am.”

Today I had a date with my husband.  I heard his voice, I laughed at his sense of humor,  I saw inside his heart.  I saw his beautiful shining eyes and gorgeous smile and I almost felt his arms incircle me.  

I have wrapped and sealed our letters and stored them safely away.  Maybe in a year or so on another wet cold rainy Sunday afternoon I will revisit them again.  For now I feel fully blessed that I loved and was so loved and we never took one another for granted.

Ruth 1:16  “Don’t ask me to leave you and turn back. Wherever you go, I will go; wherever you live, I will live. Your people will be my people, and your God will be my God.

Anxious Anticipation...

Lately two of my most frequently asked questions have been, “How are you doing?” and “Are you apprehensive about the upcoming holidays?”

My answer to the first is usually, “I’m okay.”  Do you know how many ways there are to say that word?  The answer to question #2 however, is throwing me for a loop.  I think I’m finding that apprehension, like anticipation, is in the waiting.  Sometimes it seems like the expectation of an anticipated incident can be worse than the actual experience.  Once the dreaded experience has passed, you realize what you worried about wasn’t nearly as bad as you had anticipated.

Let me give you a few of my life examples and see if you agree with me.  I think I was in the 9^th grade when I had to give an oral report.  My father, an attorney, was big on emoting.  He had helped me with this English assignment, I remember I was in Mrs. B. Smith’s class (once, when she sneezed her wiglet flew off her head into the trash can, but that’s an entirely different story.)  My father had drilled me on the importance of speaking enthusiastically and enunciating each spoken syllable...now let me remind you that in the 60’s no one in the 9^th grade gets up in front of their classmates and enunciates and merrily chirps there way through their oral report...no one.  I, being the obedient child I usually was, did as my father directed and was humiliated by the roars of laughter.  To this day, I have a deadly fear of anxiously anticipating speaking in public.  My voice will shake, my palms sweat and I become a freaky wreck.  However, I am able to speak publicly, spur of the moment or off the cuff, here I find it as natural as breathing.  It’s the anxiety of planning ahead to determine what I’m going to say that gives me the heebie-jeebies.

Here’s an example of anxious anticipation everyone can relate to, moving.  I have really only “adult moved” four times in my life and every time I dreaded moving day as if I had bacterial meningitis.  For months before each move I would walk the floors of my home thinking, how am I going to get all of this in boxes?  When am I going to find the time?  The next phase was accruing boxes and packing materials and finally packing away my junk, all the while trembling at the thought of moving day.   

The actual moving day was a breeze compared to what went on before and after “The Day.”  Again, anxious anticipation was worse than the event.

In October, 2008 Steve and I took an incredible trip to Croatia and Austria.  It was one of our favorite vacations and we had a wonderful time.  It was on this trip, that Steve mentioned he was unable to stay involved in a book.  He read only magazine articles during that trip, so unusual for him.  We always worked crossword puzzles together, it was this trip that Steve simply couldn’t figure out the puzzle clues and tossing them aside, they were no longer fun.  I remember we got lost several times as we drove through Europe.  Steve always the navigator and I the driver, had difficulty reading the maps, this was uncommon for him, but we laughed about our misadventures.

Croatia October 2008

Coming home, over the next several weeks I saw a grave mental decline in Steve.  As I watched him worsen I silently moved through a thousand horrible scenarios.  What if Steve had Alzheimer’s disease?  A brain tumor?    

I watched silently as Steve slipped down a long dark rabbit hole.  My anxious anticipation grew large and overwhelming.  Steve and I were one, joined at the hip, we depended on one another greatly...what was I going to do if there were something really wrong with my larger-than-life-husband?  These were long days and sleepless nights.  I spent hours praying, asking God for wisdom, guidance, direction.  I was lost and blanketed in disquietude.  When we finally found the culprit, Glioblastoma Multi-forma, Stage 4, I thought my worst nightmare had indeed come true.  

What was to happen to us next?  My anxious anticipation continued with each stage that we traveled throughout the now 5 years.  My worst nightmare did come true.  Steve battled long and hard, with such grace and dignity.  He never wavered in his battle, never asked why, never anticipated what might be, he enabled us to live through each difficult phase of his cancer thinking, “Well, we got through that, not so bad”…and we would move on to the next phase.  Steve simply accepted what was to be and lived to teach us all how to die with dignity.

Now I am faced with the question, “Am I anxiously anticipating the upcoming holidays?”  My answer, “Yes.”  My hope, my prayer is that the apprehension of what is to come will be greater than living through the actual holiday without Steve.

I have found most of my overwhelming moments come when least expected.  When talking to the cable man, or in a conversation in the middle of a cocktail party, or when singing a lullaby to one of our grand children.  It is those tender personal moments, when the floor is swept out from under my feet and I find myself with no place to stand.  There is no anxious anticipation during these waves of emotions, no they come like a riptide and sweep me away.

So my goal is to be thankful this Thanksgiving for all the joy Steve brought to my life and to our children’s lives.  To be thankful I knew and loved this man and that he loved me with all he had to give.  He blessed my life and made my world a better place to live.

I’ll get through Thanksgiving, then I’ll think about Christmas.  Until then, I’ll do my best not to allow anxious anticipation to creep in and take away my joy.  And ask me tomorrow and  I will tell you all, “I’m Okay!”

Happy Thanksgiving.

Thanksgiving 2008–13 days after Steve's Brain Surgery

“The Lord is my strength and shield. I trust him with all my heart. He helps me, and my heart is filled with joy. I burst out in songs of thanksgiving.”  Psalms 28:7