when the only reason is just because

Hey you - you who are too good to me,

An old friend since first grade called me the night before I married you and he asked me if I was sure, really sure.  Rie, are you sure you know what you're doing?

A former boyfriend came into the bridal room moments before I walked the aisle to you and asked me if I was sure I wasn't making a mistake.  Rie, are you sure this isn't a mistake?

Neither knew you.  Neither had met you.  They only knew time had been short.  

But if they had known then what my heart knew -

 I had always been replaceable - until you.

If they had known that when I was fifteen, someone - an adult - had looked at my then boyfriend and said these words to him - I guess love really is blind - about me.

And that I had carried those words around for years and let them take me places I should never have gone and that those words often marked my path and haunted my mind - until you.

Only I knew that on the night I had tried to tell you some things I didn't think I had the nerve to say,  you had fallen asleep listening - because you just didn't care, it just didn't matter.  That you had said now and to come are the only moments that matter.

Honey, my feet hurt in those eighty dollar shoes and you had seen me on our wedding day and our honeymoon had been cancelled and one of the candles wouldn't stay lit.  Remember?

We laughed through the prayer and got Allan tickled and he forgot the words to the ceremony.  Remember?

You went through the first car wash you could find and washed off the Just Married and I got mad at you and I lost the key to the cabin and you got mad at me.  Remember?

I love you.

Remember that, Okay?

and then we had a wedding . . .

 

 

After the clouds, the sunshine; after the winter, the spring; after the shower, the rainbow; for life is a changeable thing. After the night, the morning, bidding all darkness cease, after life's cares and sorrows, the comfort and sweetness of peace. - Helen Steiner Rice

when it is right but feels like rain

The hail back in April gives us a new roof.  I lie in bed and listen to this rain that is deep in such a short time and remember the moment I first held you in my arms.  Deep can happen quickly and drowning in sweet newborn love gives you no way back and no way out.

And it had happened before and would happen again. 

You send phone writing to a beloved older friend and leave off the Ms.  Is that what happens when leaving home forever is only days away and you are growing to love someone more than the ones you are leaving behind?  I can't remember.  Did I feel older and equal and love stronger for what was coming than for what was going? 

I roll over and look at him and yes I did.

So you feel happy and grown and strong and only slightly frightened.  But one day you'll feel small and afraid and think this is not right. 

And when that happens know that you do not need a yellow brick road to find your way back home.  To me. 

So I can send you back and tell you it is only for a moment - so you can love him more than me.

When Two are Better Faster Stronger Than One

It was on the church bus.

 

They saw each other for the first time.

 

I'm sure for a moment she may have been a little taken back.

 

This freckled face boy with hair long color of yazoo clay and waved like the water that brought him here.

 Brought here for her?

 

And it's in the moments of complete horror and sadness that only our Father can produce joy.

She was always silly.  Never shy or hesitant to make others laugh. 

 

So we weren't sure what was wrong with her on this night. 

 

Her braces had just come off days before and she was excited to turn fifteen.

 

I can imagine Mom shopping and finding that shiny blue wig - no doubt in her mind Shelby would get a kick out of it - no doubt in any of our minds.

 But she didn't.  We all thought it was a game when she wouldn't put it on. 

But it wasn't.  Tears flowed in the back room and nothing - nothing could convince her to give us just one more hat photo to join the collection since she was old enough to know what one was.

 

But then he quietly found her and they whispered in the corner and I remember thinking that my silly bluebird just wanted him to see her as a young woman instead of a little girl.  I remember thinking that night my girl might be in love.

 

And only one - only one person - convinced her. 
 

And that's the moment I fell for him.

 

And they both grew up on the ice and hockey players and figure skaters clash - just a little. And the day came they sought out to prove who was better who was faster who was stronger. 

And she walked through the door after she went down face sliding on ice.

And there was the break-up.

 

And the make-up.

And the break apart.

 

And time.  And the struggle to stay friends.

 

The summer apart.

 

And she didn't know what to do. 

 

And he wanted her back and she wavered scared and only wanted to make this life decision once. 

 

And she was afraid.

 

But I knew she missed the boy.  And on this night sitting and laughing she posted status Will you be my . . .

 

and she waited.  And we laughed and imagined what he was thinking and when she couldn't wait any longer she finished the question and

 

they found their way back.

 

She was barely four when she went on her first trip for Jesus.  I packed her bag and told her we were trippin' for Jesus.  She didn't get it.

 

Her's not white her's not black me don't know what her is.

 

And there, with Native Americans, she began trippin' for Jesus.

 

So when years later took her to Hondurus and she fell grown deeper in love with Jesus and then Tennessee sealed her desire for Him with questions and confusion she came home trying to find her steps and couldn't figure out how to split her heart between the two.

 

Mama, I only want to be in love with Jesus. I don't know how to have room in my heart for more.

 

And then the break.

 

And his heart was broken and he was angry and didn't understand. 

 

And Jesus gently rocked her and led her back.

 

Then hard days came and she hurt and slept. 

I watched him. Wondered what he was thinking.  I'm thinking the time away from her had been a blessing. And while she had been struggling with more love than she knew what to do with he was realizing that no matter what life would be - he wanted it to be with her.

 

She cried.  I don't want Joe to have to spend his life with someone that feels bad so much. 

 

Do you remember when Joe was concerned about you being without him?  You know his concern about dying young, like his dad, and leaving you and children alone?   

 

You thought that was sweet ridiculous.  Even if you knew your time with him would end tomorrow you wouldn't give him up.  You're not giving him and his love for you enough credit.

 

Stop thinking so much, and just love.

 

 

 

And she did.  Because from that moment on the bus there really was never another option, was there, my bluebird love?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

When You Really Can Freeze the Day

There is so much I want to record about the wedding.  I haven't even shared the showers yet and the top tier is already frozen.

But while I'm trying to get over a sinus infection and unpack a gazillion wedding boxes - please enjoy this video.  It's a six minute highlight of the wedding, and it tempts me into wanting to see more.  





My nephew, Christopher, has blessed us with this gift to treasure the night.  He is professional and kind in remembering that Ruben's grandparents are deaf.  Christopher is so talented; at only sixteen years old it is obvious he has a great future ahead of him.  God has blessed him tremendously, and blessed us with the joy of not only his gift, but of knowing him and loving him.

Thank you sweet Christopher, Aunt Rie loves you. 

Mr. and Mrs. Miles

 

 

When Your Heart is Beating in the Past

In a rare moment of quiet I sit at the computer to find choices for the father and daughter dance at the wedding. 

I listen to Michael W. Smith and Tim McGraw and Heartland and Lady Antebellum and Bruce Springsteen and Nick Lachey and Matthew West - and with each song I think it gets a little harder to breathe. 

From I Loved Her First to Dancing Away With My Heart to How to Say Goodbye to When You Need Me to Stealing Cinderella and This I Swear and My Little Girl - there are so many choices and every song takes a little bit more of my breath away.

I remind myself this is a joyous time and the beginning of the best years of her life.

 

 

He walks in the door and comes to the computer, her daddy, and stands not moving.  I tell him I have him three choices and he needs to listen and choose which song he wants.  I play the beginning of the first one.  He doesn't move. 

And then . . .

He walks away.  He just walks away without a word. 

Sometimes I just know my man.

Do you want me to choose it?

Yeah, you choose it.

And that is the end of that.  I'll choose, cause his heart beats with the rhythm of a daddy days away from walking the aisle with the little girl who used to ride his shoulders. 

And some things are just a little too much for a heart.

Spanx??

I wait until they are finished shopping for their dresses before I bite the bullet - because they make me- and shop for mine.

Yes, yes, yes, I was going to lose twenty pounds before the wedding and no, no, no I didn't.

I am not wanting to do this.  I don't remember ever needing such a fancy dress since the day I said I do.  Not that I don't want the dress or to look lovely on my baby girl's day - it's the process of finding the dress when gravity and chocolate have been living here for soooo long.

I just don't understand why they put fluorescent lighting in dressing rooms.  Why would a woman buy anything if it looks like her thighs were hit by a meteor shower?
                                                                                                        - quick, name that movie.

And I wish we were only talking about thighs here.

 

Yep, we women who know better and know our worth is not in our looks and teach our children to believe in themselves no matter what the mirror says are the same women who can't take our clothes off in the dressing room.  'Cause we all have our most hated body part, right?

 

Where did the captain hide his armies?

In his sleevies.

 

And the conversation with my girls goes something like this -

 

No, not that one.

 

No, not that one.

 

I can't wear that.

 

Really??

 

Seriously??

 

Look at these arms.  Seriously?

 

You know I'm not gonna wear that, don't you?

 

But they still manage to drag me into the dressing room with more choices than my armies can carry.

 

So, here I am.  In the dressing room with my daughter-bride. 

 

Mama, you don't have the right bra or the right underwear on.  It'll look better when you put some spanx on.

 

Spanx?  Who said anything about spanx? 

 

Then she walks over and grabs the top of my bra straps and pulls up - way, way up. 

 

See, you need some lift and then some spanx to suck it all in. 

 

Time to high-tail it out of there. 

Nope, didn't buy the mother of the bride gown that night.

 

 

Dearest Blubird,

It is New Year's Eve, around six, and we're getting ready our normal way - you sitting criss-cross applesauce at the hall mirror and me at the bathroom mirror. I'm in on another little secret - and you are not.

You walk to the doorway and flash that great big beautiful smile and tell me you are really trying not to get your hopes up because you don't want to be upset if he doesn't ask. You say you know he's not going to tonight, and you know he's trying hard to earn the money for the ring, but you were disappointed last year and you don't want to be this year. You are waving a brush around.

You laugh.

You say it all with that smile on your face. That little wall you build up. The one you have when you smile big so it doesn't look like it's a big deal but it really is.

I've got your number.

I say all the good motherly stuff. Like it will happen when it happens and time will fly and all that good stuff. You laugh again and wave the brush around.

I try to let enough time pass before I tell you to look pretty. Do your hair good and put make-up on 'cause I'm going to blog about the party and I want some good pictures. You don't really believe me about the blogging part with my track record and you say you just want to wear your sweats, but I insist on my pictures.

And I've seen your ring and it looks just like mine with silver instead of gold.

But I can't tell you that.

And I can't tell you he wanted to ask you on the ice but there's rain. And that he texted me earlier that he was nervous and I teased you might say no and he texted back quickly, WHAT? That he typed he is crazy about you and he'd probably be sweating by midnight.

That I commented on my future red-haired cajun grandbabies when he showed up at the door after he had talked to your daddy. When he showed up to ask me to give you to him.

Like that's ever gonna happen.

I'll only do what I'm required to do - no matter how much I love the fella' - and I'll never give any of you away.

You're just on loan - for a lifetime.

So you powder your nose and color those lips and I watch you walk out the door to your future - knowing you'll come home never the same.

Me, too.

Happy New Years Eve 2013 Blubird,
Mama