I found Christmas...

I think it was Carolyn, one of my wonderful San Antonio friends, who came to me a day or so after Steve had died.  She quietly pulled me aside amid all the busyness that comes with dying and simply said, “We want you to go to New York with us in December, will you think about it?”  My answer was a quick shrug of my shoulders and nod of my head, I was in, no need to think.

Last Spring a group of us were having breakfast and the idea of spending a few days in New York during the Christmas holidays came up.  Discussion escalated but I quietly declined, knowing I couldn’t leave Steve for such a trip.  

By mid-August when reservations were finally made, there were four of us going on this four day holiday junket.  In August and September, December 9^th seemed like a lifetime away, but before I knew it our trip was here, and I was not wanting to go.

My life has been so hectic lately.  Helping Brooke and her family with their move.  Packing up my home, remodeling the new house, Thanksgiving, Christmas.  I was overwhelmed and just wanted to stay home, burrow in and get all the unpleasant things lurking in front of me done.   Plans had been made however, plane tickets, theatre tickets purchased, I was committed--so off I went.

The group that ended up going was special on many levels.  Three of the four of us were vagabonds in a sense.  We packed not only our clothes and necessities  but some heavy hearts and a need for loving friendships were tucked in right along side of our outer-ware.  

Carolyn’s wonderful husband Chris had died very unexpectedly a little over 1 ½ years ago.  This was to be her 2^nd Christmas without sweet Chris.  

Claudia had a different ache from Carolyn’s and mine.  Claudia had taken her adorable little mother to NYC every year at Christmastime for about 10 years.  The last few years her darling mother has been unable to travel.  Dementia, age and frailty have captured her once vibrant and lively mother leaving Claudia with only poignant memories of the incredible trips they took over the years during this holiday season.  

Cindy, as always, our nurturer, was there for each of us with warm hugs, kind and tender words and tears of her own for our losses which were also her own.

Our first stop was Rockefeller Center, the iceskating rink, the larger than life angels, the gorgeous famous Christmas tree!  It was cold and it didn’t take seconds to feel the Christmas spirit bubble up through the sidewalk into our toes.

Cindy, Janet, Claudia, Carolyn Rockefeller Center

The Salvation Army ringers were in full swing, oh how fun...we were doing Christmas in The Big Apple.

We ate delicious food, drank great wine, had a few dirty martinis.  The next morning it was blustery, snow was starting to fall.  Out the door we went at 6:45 a.m. to stand with the throngs of crazies to catch a glimpse of Matt, Savannah, Al & Natalie on the Today Show--and of course to wave and yell and jump up and down so we could be seen on television for a few seconds.  Been there, done that.  

We were handed free tickets to The Katie (Couric) Show.  The weather was so bad we went...borrrring.  We left midway through, they were not impressed, neither were we.  We had tickets for Radio City Music Hall Christmas Spectacular, and that it was.  We left humming all the way to drinks and dinner, oh Christmas was in the air!

Steve was also right there with me.  One of our very first trips together was to New York in December 20+ years ago.  It was the first time Steve said to me that his favorite part of the trip was riding up in the elevator to our hotel room.  He continued to repeat those same incredibly romantic words to me for the next 20 years in every hotel elevator, on every trip we took.  I heard his echo as we ascended that first day, my heart tore a bit.  

Our 1st New York Trip

That same first day I walked by an elderly couple, the husband was reading the sign on an old building, his wife bored, but patiently waited by his side.  I walked passed, stopped and turned around, bent over his stooped shoulder and politely asked him, “So what do those roman numerals tell us about this building?”  In that nanosecond, I had seen Steve, he had done it a hundred times, stopped to figure out those roman numerals.  The old man smiled, his shaky finger pointed to each symbol and he explained, in great detail,  the meaning of each one.  

My heart mended a bit. Little moments like this continued to happen throughout the trip, at times I would smile, at times my tears would flow, but Steve was beside me, his memory was with me, full and vibrantly vivid with each step I took. 

Wednesday morning our plan was to take the subway to Grand Central Station (there was a wonderful Christmas market)  and then on to ABC Carpets for a little Christmas shopping and lunch and finally to see Billy Crystal in “700 Sundays”.  Another full, fun day.  

Before we left the hotel that morning Carolyn shared a video with us titled “The Naughty from the Nice” (I think you can see it on You Tube.)  She then (Carolyn forgive me) handed each of us a $100 bill and asked us to hand it to someone we felt might need it that day.  Stunned at first, then filled with awe at the thought of this gift, off we went.

Grand Central Station

I was the first to give my gift.  We had arms full of Christmas bags and were headed back to the hotel to unload before hitting our next destination.  We got a bit lost changing trains on the subway.  I finally spotted a gentleman with a box in this hands.  I guessed right, he worked as a delivery runner, so I supposed he would know the subway system.  He was so kind in telling us to just follow him.  He was going the same way and he would take us to our stop.  As we got off the train he and I began talking, he had lived in Manhattan all his life and he tried to make it a habit every day to help give someone directions...he said it made his day a bit brighter.  I knew, this was to be the receiver of my gift.  Right before parting we thanked him for his kindness and I placed the folded up bill in his hand.  He quickly said, “Oh no, no I don’t help for that.”  My response was, “Oh, no please, this is a Christmas gift, it’s meant for you.”  

He placed it in his pocket and we all parted.  This kind gentle man had no idea if I had given him $1 or $5 but I know when he pulled that $100 bill out of his pocket his gratitude radiated all over that enormous city.  I turned to look at Carolyn, Claudia and Cindy and all our eyes were filled with tears.  It was beginning to feel a lot like Christmas.

Carolyn was next.  Later that day, we had split up and she and I were heading back to the hotel once again.  The subway halls were bustling and we were weary.  We passed a young woman sitting against the cold hard tile of the subway, an old paper cup in front of her.  You had to look closely to see that she had a small baby nestled closely against her chest, otherwise you would have never noticed that she was a mother.  Carolyn did an about face place her bill in the young woman’s hand.  As I turned to see where my friend had gone, I noticed the young mother simply place the folded money in her inside pocket.  Again, what must have filled her thoughts when she emptied he pockets that evening?  I know joy and hope filled ours. Oh this was Christmas!

Claudia had handed her gift off at about the same time.  She and Cindy were riding a different subway back to the hotel and a man way playing a set of small bongo like drums on their train.  As people entered the train he would greet them.  Claudia’s arms were full of shopping bags.  He smiled and asked, “What all these gifts and none for me?”  Then heartily laughed and continued to invite his passengers to smile and sing and be merry and joyful, it was Christmas.  At their stop, as the train emptied, Claudia handed off her gift to this joy filled man and said, “See I didn’t forget you, Merry Christmas!”  She said he unfolded that bill and kept repeating “Really, really?!”  Oh be careful who you entertain as you might be entertaining angles unaware…

Cindy was the last, but she knew immediately where her gift would go.  Our hotel package included breakfast, so needless to say we ate a daily breakfast.  Our waiter, Solomon, served us on the first day and became our “good friend”.  He had a daughter named, Claudia, so there was much to visit about.  He pulled out his phone, showed us her picture, she is currently attending collage in upstate New York and he has more daughters still at home.  Wednesday he had a tin of cookies waiting for our Claudia.  Thursday the maître d' told us Solomon had been asking for us, cookies for all!  Little did he know that Thursday Cindy’s gift was left for him.  May all your Christmases be bright!

You would think this was the end, but oh no...Thursday morning we headed for the Metropolitan Museum by taxi.  It was cold and we had a just a few hours to spend.  We piled into our taxi, I sat in front and headed (the wrong way for the Met.)  I finally couldn’t stand it any longer and timidly asked if we were going the right way?  Kita (we were to learn his name later) explained the streets and Central Park and that was the start of our conversation.  

Kita was from midwestern Africa.  He had been in the U.S. for 26 years and was proud of his citizenship.  Kita only worked days, taxi driving nights was too dangerous and he only worked until 4:00 PM.  You see Kita has two young girls 6 and 12 years old, he loves them (as he releases his hold from the steering wheel to embrace his heart) with all of his “being” and it is important for him to be home with his girls.  This man lit up from within as he spoke of his wife and family.  I glanced in the back and everyone was scrambling to be the one to give “the gift.”

As I was in the front seat, I was passed a $100 bill.  We paid Kita his fare and then within the fold of his fare was his gift.  He unfolded the bills as we were exiting his cab.  He looked at me and said, “Oh, no you didn’t mean to give me all of this…”  I nodded, yeses followed with pats and squeezes from all.  Kita asked if he could give me a hug?  I reached across what was once a huge chasm, now only a mere arm rest and hugged this incredible father, this amazing man with all my might.  He said, ”Oh no, now I might cry”  as huge tears fell out of his eyes.  One of us responded with, “Oh now we are all crying.”  And we were, and as we looked back from the sidewalk, there was Kita his head in his hands sobbing.  “Oh, fear not for unto you is born this day…”

The Met has the most incredible Christmas tree with Neapolitan crèche which brought more tears to our already tear streaked faces.  From there we paid a brief visit to the great masters.  I needed to see Steve’s and my favorite of the great masters, Caravaggio.  I found only one “The Denial of St. Peter” but as I stood there I could hear Steve, “Look at the way the light shines on their faces, their expressions, their hands…”  Oh no, nothing can ever take away those memories.

Tree at the Met

Caravaggio "The Denial of St. Peter"

It was time to leave.  We hailed a taxi back to the hotel to pick up our luggage and wait for our car to the airport.  Grabbing a cab, we piled in and right off the bat Carolyn says to the driver, “So, what’s your name?”  He looked terrified.  Of course, I was again in the front seat and tried to calm his fright by making small talk.  

Barry was from Liberia.  He had left the country 12 years ago due to unrest and civil war.  He worked part time as a cab driver and was selling real estate on the side.  He was saving his money to try to begin to buy real estate in Liberia because there was much rebuilding now that their wars had stopped.  Barry was 29 years old.  He had just married a French Canadian and spoke, his tribal language, English and French.  He was a U.S. Citizen and was proud to be one.  Barry was bright and eager and there were no limits to what life had in store for him.  

This time it was my turn.  I looked to the back and gave the signal, everyone nodded in agreement.  Handing him his gift, we opened the taxi doors to hear Barry exclaiming, “All of this for me, it can’t be, it can’t be…”  We all waved and called out “Merry Christmas, may God bless you…”

This should be the end of our story, but no there’s one more.  We flew Southwest out of Newark.  We had lots of time to spare so we went to grab some lunch.  The only restaurant we found was Mexican food...of all things, when from San Antonio, you never eat Mexican food out of state...never!  But there we were, at a small corner table with a young waitress asking for our order.  As we went around the table giving her our individual orders she listened, smiled and nodded.  She then exchanged small talk with us and before leaving repeated back verbatim   that we were having.  We remarked on how amazing her memory was, and there was more small talk.  She took an order from another table and left.  She brought us our drinks, laughed and was so full of joy, it spilled from every corner of her being.  Maria Elena (by this time we were on a first name basis) brought exactly what we ordered and continued to serve us with such precision and grace.  

You know where this is going...by the time we were finished we knew that Maria Elena had dropped out of her first year of college because she had a baby, Michael (she showed us his picture on her phone).  Michael now 2 years, her boyfriend (Michael’s dad) had graduated from college and was working and they were saving money so she could go back to college when Michael was old enough.

She laid down that bill and we were all scrambling, the cash was flowing out of our wallets.  We paid our bill and handed Maria Elena her gift, thank her and telling her to go back to college, she was a very capable and bright young woman.

We were still eating when we heard this loud shriek, hoots of laughter and the most joyful sounds ever imaginable coming from behind a wait station partition.  We all smiled, looking down, trying to hurry to finish our meal when out comes Maria Elena, so full of gratitude and appreciation.  Telling us that no one had ever thought her as worthy as we had.  We hugged and left quickly.  For this we have Jesus, for this we celebrate the birth of Christ our Lord, for this is what Christmas is really about.

Sunday night before we left to go to New York, I felt so burdened by this trip.  I crawled in bed and prayed that God would use this time to show me Christmas. To bless each of the four of us, to bring His richest blessings beyond my wildest imaginations to this time…

Again God far exceeded my greatest expectations!  I challenge each of you to find Christ this season, for if you do, I promise you will be richly blessed beyond anything you might ever imagine.

Ephesians 3:20  ”Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us”

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.