Fate: A Love Story about God’s Mighty Plan

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I have always believed in fate.

I haven’t just believed in it but I have marveled at its power.

God’s plan in action—fate, destiny—we dip our toes into footsteps we were already meant to walk in. That hair raising thing that happens when you look back and see life’s turns that, if missed, would have altered life as you know it.

For me, that was my first job.

Honestly, I didn’t want a job. I was kind of a nerd or geek–whichever one of those don’t make good grades–and generally I was just awkward.

You know, all the qualities I still possess but have learned to hone into the asset they are today (right?!).

Anyway.

My mom and dad made me get a job so I could pay for stuff like car insurance and learn to be a decent hardworking individual.

I was almost at the end of my first shift as a waitress when I had to ask for more sugar to refill the coffee bar.

My response came from eyes as deep as the sea with laughter splashing around on the surface, beside him three waitresses swooned (that’s still a word–right?)

“Gotta be louder than that if you want anything around here,” he said, tipping his head back toward the chaos of a busy kitchen and accompanied by a chorus of giggles.

I was always jealous of girls that could talk to boys. My flirting skills included running into poles when smiling, accidental drooling when attempting to speak, and sudden twitches while making eyes–or whatever that is called.

This was different, though, because it was my job to talk to him.

Night after night I asked for things from the kitchen, and it led to conversation.  He listened to me–he thought I was funny, and he enjoyed watching me stumble with words and nerves–he saw I was genuine.

He put together all my pieces I worked so hard to hide from everyone else.

And he kept me like a treasure–as his best friend.

See here is what I didn’t know all of those years–Shawn needed someone to trust.  Life had left him cynical about love and marriage, and his life motto was “I am never getting married.”

Through six years of friendship, God showed him he could trust me with his heart.  One day he took me to the movies (something we did often anyway) but this time he took my hand.

Everything changed.

All those giggling girls had faded away, and standing there was just me: the girl he loved. I was just as awkward as ever, but he loves that about me.

He has helped me to love that too.

Fate: God’s ultimate plan.

As I now sit in our kitchen with our two little boys buzzing at my feet, I remember all the days that led here.

Long before I met Shawn, my Dad worked in a neighboring town about double the size of ours and we wanted to move there.

But it just never worked.

After one real estate contract fell through, and other trip-ups along the way, my parents came to realize it just wasn’t meant to be.

I was so upset; I hated school and I had only three friends–counting my mom.  I just thought moving away would fix everything.

I couldn’t see the whole picture like God could.

Moving to a bigger town meant I would never have put in my application, and God knew that.

Wrapped in that piece of paper bearing my name and no previous work experience, was everything that has come into being today–my sweet family.

Today might be ordinary, but hidden in our steps is a master plan leading us exactly where God wants us to be.

And not just me–my kids too.

My footsteps align their fate as we make future impacting decisions, and star-crossed in our movements are those that will help pave family generations to come.

God’s plan: fate, destiny–whatever you want to call it.

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Throwing Forks and Picking Teeth: The Trenches of Marriage

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Happily ever after begins with understanding that happiness never equals perfection.

I didn’t marry the profile of a perfect man, I married a real man.

He screws up sometimes and often says exact the wrong thing at the wrong time.

He doesn’t tell me I am beautiful every day either and honestly he doesn’t even make me feel beautiful everyday.

I don’t even expect him to, because friends, I am NOT beautiful everyday.

I have picked my teeth, farted, and snored in front of this man who honestly just impresses me that he is willing wake up next to me everyday without being completely horrified.

Some days my attitude isn’t beautiful either.

I once threw a fork at his head because he told me that he forgot to buy french onion dip.  I was pregnant, but still, the fork barely avoided his eye socket and hit right above the eyebrow.

I am pretty sure it hurt and if I wasn’t pregnant he probably would have grabbed the fork and chased me around the house with it.

I also shot him point blank in the head one time with a paintball gun standing not more than one foot away from him.

Thank God he is hard headed because apparently it could have killed him had I shot him in the right place. I thought his eyes were going to bulge out their sockets, but he took a deep breath and slowly walked into the distance–kind of twitching as he went– before killing me.

I just didn’t know that paintball guns were so intense; I kind of thought that they were like Nerf guns.

And that isn’t the only shot taken in our marriage.

I have yelled at him; he has yelled me. We have taken bricks out of the foundation of our relationship and thrown them at each other to the point I have thought we just might crumble to the ground.

That’s right, we have been there.

Marital problems are easy to romanticize, but the days when you have to diligently fight for your marriage and to keep loving each other during the worst moments of life are painful trenches.

We have been to some dark places together and the only light we have ever found there was Jesus. He is the key to success. When I am totally unlovable, Shawn loves me the way Christ loves me–unconditionally.

Each day we must echo God’s grace.

For He chooses to love me no matter my sin and no matter my fails–He picks me up and offers me unconditional love.

We must do the same for each other.

The rough roads we have been down have taken us to the most breathtaking places, simply because we have been willing to stay in the car.

Caterpillar Funerals and Thankfulness

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As a mom, I seem to pick up a lot of odd jobs around our house.

I am a secretary to my technology challenged husband who believes that to “google” something is a violation of the ten commandments–thou shalt not google thy neighbor’s wife.

I am also a why guru.

I can tell you why the sky is blue instead of purple.

I can tell you why Batman and Spiderman do not hang out on weekends–that I know of at least.

I can also tell you why after three hours on the job I am banging my head against a brick wall.

Last week I got another side job: I am the reluctant caregiver of caterpillars.

These fuzzy little leg-clad creatures were very proudly collected by my five year old who decided that he wanted to study metamorphosis.

I am pretty sure that one smiled at me on Tuesday when I gave it a dandelion, but maybe that was just me since I’m an approval seeker and all.

However, here is something about caterpillars you probably don’t know (and maybe don’t want to know): they eat a lot and they poop a lot.

Therefore their home is in constant need of more leaves to eat and always needs cleaning out, both of which immediately became my job.

I have to admit, though, I became sort of attached to them.

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When I was asked to speak at the first one’s funeral I was quite honored.

The second one’s funeral, however, I was not asked to speak and found a notable suspicion in my children’s attitude as I offered condolences at the body viewing.

By the time the third funeral rolled around, I was outright accused of murder.

Actually, I don’t blame them, as I am not completely convinced of my own innocence since I have no prior caterpillar experience.

Oddly enough, though, I was never fired from being the caretaker of the two that remain.

They seem to be in fine health thus far.

When my kids drag these little critters around, it always makes me think about how thankful I am that God didn’t make me one of those critters.

This thought process kind of put me on a whole new path of thankfulness when I really started thinking about it.

I have always been thankful for what I thought to be the little things in life: my family, my home, my health.  Of course these are wonderful gifts that we should thank God for daily, but suddenly I realized that thankfulness needs to go back to the basics.

We have to narrow our mind to the very basics of what we are, a creation of God.  Thankfulness truly begins at the realization that God was not in any way obligated to create life.

We owe over very existence to this fact.

He could have created emotional zombies. Instead He created us as passionate creatures, capable of love and hate, joy and sadness, and pleasure and pain.

Without all these emotions life would not be worth living, but here’s the thing: God was not obligated to make our life worth living.

He did that because He wanted to, not because we deserved it.

We are His creation, and our destiny was His to create whether it was one we liked or one we didn’t like.

He could chained us up and made us answer to His every whim, but instead He wanted us to willingly serve without a cracking whip.

Not only did He decide to create humans, he decided to make you and I humans.

He could have made us bugs.  You could have been that poor unfortunate caterpillar who died in the hands of an inexperienced caretaker.

Of course, I am not confessing to anything.

Your Kingdom Come

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You aren’t a Queen. He’s not a king. Make God the ruler of your union and your kingdom will come.
Fairy tales don’t happen. 

Real life happens along with hardship and struggle, and in the midst is grace. Grace to see every flaw and endure each mistake.

 

A Selfie Legacy

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Since we are always posting funny stuff about our kids on Facebook, I have been wondering what they will post about us someday.

Something like this:

Just got home from visiting mom at the home. She said that she is an adult and wants to stay up all night and eat cookies. She is so funny!  They usually sedate her at 7:30.

It also makes me wonder what my mom would have posted about me as a kid, and what it would be like to scroll through those posts now.

I think my mom’s posts would have gone something like this:

“Here is a video of Megan’s three year old dance recital. She is the one who gets stuck in the curtain there at the end. You can also see her tap shoe flying off around the middle of the song, but a nice man from the front row brought it back to us and threatened a lawsuit for his concussion. We have encouraged Megan to look into another activity, maybe one that isn’t on stage–where people can see her and know she is our child.”

I would get to know every time and every place my mom went out to eat–thanks to the check in and restaurant selfie or maybe duck lip mom in the bathroom mirror.

Who knows.

I often think about the web footprints I am leaving behind.

Is this my legacy? Will my collection of selfies and pictures of my dinner be the ancestral record to generations I never meet?

flower selfie Facebook 2035:

“Here is my Throwback Thursday. My crazy old great grandma taking a flower selfie all the way back in 2015.”

You know…that’s totally cool with me.  They can see the real great (or great great, or whatever) Grandma that they wouldn’t have otherwise known.

They will meet my friends and see their family from long ago interacting.

They will see all the food I burnt (and for some reason think hilarious to post on Facebook).

They will read all about that time I forgot my purse at the Circus too.

They will know I really loved their Grandpa.

Most importantly, they will know I really loved God.

So maybe Facebook isn’t such a bad way for them to get to know me after all.

Breakfast with a Five Year Old

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Logan: Mom, I wish you woulda named me something cooler, like Captain America!

Me: Well, it’s just that there already is a Captain America, so we thought Logan would be better.

Logan: Well, I already know three other guys named Logan and only one other Captain America.

Me: ……

So, Captain America is now in the living room watching Dora.

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Being strong

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Tears fell as he looked at his feet and wondered why life is sometimes so hard.

He was going to be strong like Daddy said to, and so he dried his face and remembered the good times. 

The dirt. That little spot next to the house where they met. He knew right away they’d be friends, and instantly they were. 

He stopped and closed his eyes for a moment.

No matter how small you are, losing a friend hurts big.

Even if it was worm. That you squished.