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love

Heartbeat Home

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Heartbeat Home

“Sometimes, home has a heartbeat.”  - Beau Taplin

So, I didn’t date in high school… or college. 

In fact, I didn’t date until I dated my husband. I had been on one…yes, I mean one…date with a guy that really was never going to be anything more than a friend for a short season in my life. That’s not to say that there weren’t (several) guys that I was interested in during my unsettled, insecure college season! It’s just that my dad had this rule (insert eye roll here)…

The Rule:  Whoever wanted to ask me (or my sister) out, had to ask his permission first.

Yes, you read that right. And my dad made sure every guy that came around that even looked like he might want to ask me out, knew about the rule. In hindsight, it really is impressive the way that my dad managed to work it into conversation and cement every guy’s position in the permanent friend category. He was never rude or overbearing about it! In fact, he usually worked it in as humor so that the guy was never really sure he was serious, yet was pretty sure testing the rule would end badly.

So, by the time my husband entered the picture, I had finally gotten to the point of being at peace with my single status and didn’t even realize he had asked me out on a date. We had been working together (I managed his Christian rock band) for a couple of years, so I knew him fairly well and considered him a friend; so, I had never considered a relationship with him until he initiated one. I had no idea what a dating relationship was like, but I’ll tell you this, though; I had made it to 26 years old without any major heartbreak damaging my psyche. Not that I needed a major heartbreak for that! But that’s beside the point.

I was 26 years old, and after our second date (late night coffee at Denny’s) my husband still respected my dad’s rule (though long expired by that point!) enough to state his intent to date me and ask my dads permission to do so. That move caught my attention. His decision to do that earned my respect. And his desire to respect the intent behind my dads rule won my heart.

After that day, I was surprised at the sudden shift in my hearts attention toward Michael. It’s hard to really explain… It was like hearing him with my soul every time he spoke, not my ears. It was like breathing him in with my whole being every time he hugged me, not just acknowledging the smell of his cologne. And every time he held my hand, it was like literally feeling his lifeblood flowing with mine: a matching heartbeat. It was an unmistakable feeling of being home.

You know the feeling I mean. That sense of comfort, warmth and freedom that follows walking through your front door, knowing that you’re shielded from the harsh judgement of the outside world for a bit. The confidence of knowing your environment and being known by it; relaxing in the knowledge that you are safe from outside opinions for awhile. I didn’t know that these feelings could be applied to a person before Michael.

Then, after we got married, having the privilege of resting my head on his chest every night made me realize how I wanted to recenter myself, refocus my heart, for the rest of my life. I realized that, if I laid there long enough, if he held my hand long enough, then my heartbeat matched time with his: Our hearts would literally beat together. Crazy.

Full disclosure: After having my daughter, life continued to get more and more busy, and I forgot for a time what being home felt like. I forgot that being with him is home. We had gotten so used to falling into bed exhausted every night, that taking those moments to recenter and refocus got lost. And I didn’t realize until a couple weeks ago how much I missed matching heartbeats. 

Then last weekend he got hit by a semi-truck.

When he called to tell me… My heart stopped. I felt nauseous at all the mental pictures that instantly filled my mind. Part of my brain was processing that he was the one talking to me, while another part was trying to tell me that there was no way he was ok. And after explaining the accident to me, I realized that God’s supernatural protection is the only explanation for why he is alive. Talk about a wakeup call.

I have held his hand more in the past 10 days than I have in the past 10 months.

Every one of the past 10 days that I have woken up next to him, I am thankful. I am thankful that God sent him to me. I am thankful that Michael chose me. I am thankful that our story is still being written. And I am thankful that I still have my home; my matching heartbeat.

I am also unmistakably more aware of the uncertainty of life. I am heart broken for those whose stories ended in situations like this. I am saddened at the thought that so many others encountered a similar circumstance and lost their matching heartbeat; lost their home.

I may not have the most romantic love story to tell. I may not have the most glamorous life. I may not have an Instagram worthy relationship full of date nights and super cute presents. It’s like this Mhairi McFarlane quote: “It was…not love at first sight exactly, but - familiarity. Like: oh, hello, it’s you. It’s going to be you. Game over.”  

I will never take my matching heartbeat, that feeling of being home, for granted again.

Ladies- Go hug your husband. Go hug your kids. Touch base with the important people in your life and tap into your lifeline. Say “I love you” often and never take the life you have for granted; no matter what your current perspective of it is. Nothing is constant, seasons change, and so will the story of your life. So, find your home and match your heartbeats. Tomorrow is never a certainty.

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Charisma

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Charisma

Charisma (pl. charismata

I’ve always loved learning the origin and history of words. I’m a nerd! I know it.

What I love about learning how words started, what they meant at the beginning, is how it often challenges the present use of the word. In present english, charisma is a word that we assign to a person or character that we revere; a person that has a certain compelling attractiveness or charm that inspires devotion and admiration. Most often, it’s a word that we attribute to a seemingly divine power or talent. I have used this word within this present definition for the entirety of my life! 

It wasn’t until I was reading a book regarding the markers of a healthy Christian church that I even stopped to think that this word, charisma, may have a history of different meaning. I’ve fallen into the habit lately of using words without forethought; without pausing to really consider if I am using the words I truly intend to say. Words, after all, are just words until we place them in a context that assigns them a tone and a definition. And I must admit that I am often guilty of placing otherwise innocent words within a negative context when it comes to communicating with the people I love most; Namely my husband. Anyone else?

Whether we want to admit it or not, words have power. The words we say, and the tone with which we say them, can either build someone up or tear them down. Words have the power to encourage growth or to inhibit it. And no matter how cliche it is; the tone and manner with which we use words often speaks louder than the words themselves.

Confession: This is the seemingly never ending struggle that I find myself in with my husband.

I never saw my husband coming. I was confident in the calling I believed was on my life: I was going to be single, serving in ministry as a speaker/teacher/mentor. I had finally reached a peace in my heart about not getting married (especially considering I was 25 and had never dated!), believing that the plan for my life was something bigger than I could ever imagine. I was so independent and so used to living my life unattached, that it took me about two hours to realize that my husband had asked me out on a date!

Fast forward to today…

Had someone, anyone, been honest enough with me to tell me then that marrying someone who loves in an entirely different love language than me was going to be the biggest challenge of my life…I may have never done it, and totally missed the blessings God had planned! You see, I love with gifts and quality time. So, buy me a coffee and sit with me chatting for an hour and my tank is full!

I married a words of affirmation and physical touch lover…  My weakest points.

Needless to say, I wake up every day and make the choice to fight for my marriage: to fight for my husband. It has taken me all five years (plus a few months!) of being married to get to the place in my marriage that I don’t beat myself up every day, because I’ve allowed the darkness to convince my heart that my husband loves me SO well and I am terrible at loving him back.

I even went through a season of questioning the “rightness” of my marriage altogether.

I learned in that season that the darkness really is very adept at twisting our reality to fit the narrative that has the greatest potential to defeat us; to push us away from the path of goodness we are struggling to walk on. It was a conversation with my amazing sister-in-law that shook me out of the dark and forced me to see the reality of my life: The reality that I was a new mom, I was physically and emotionally exhausted, I was isolated as a result of losing my church family, I was battling a loneliness that I had never experienced before as a result of the decision to be a “stay-at-home-mom”, and I had stopped chasing after my dreams and my calling as the result of listening more often to the darkness than the light.

BUT SO WAS MY HUSBAND.

A new dad. Physically and emotionally exhausted. Isolated. Lonely. Listening to dark whispers devaluing his efforts to love and provide and support and parent.

As a result of that season, we were stuck in a cycle of absolute miscommunication, that led to lots of hurt feelings. Our words had power and our tone was too often confusing the intended definition of even the simplest of statements. Our marriage had become more about surviving the day with our baby than spending time really talking and dreaming and just being together; growing together toward a common purpose.

We had lost sight of our greatest charisma.

Learning the origin of this commonly used word reminded me this week of that season in my marriage, and also made me extremely thankful that my husband had the wisdom to force the much needed confrontation that has renewed our desire for, trust in and fight for each other and our marriage. My husband has the patience of a saint! Yet, even he can reach the point of frustration with my internal struggle to exert my independence, while at the same time surrendering in respect so that I can truly love him well.

I now understand that what we have been doing in this past season of renewal is reclaiming our charisma.

Charisma (charis, charismata), from Greek origin, was used in reference to spiritual things; more specifically spiritual gifts.

Charisma and charismata are used by the Apostle Paul in the scriptures explaining the Spiritual gifts that God, in his grace, gives to those who truly believe in salvation through his Son. The purpose of these gifts is to build up the church and to be an example of goodness, of righteousness. Therefore, when put into historical context:

CHARISMA is a GRACE GIFT.

Marriage is a charisma. (1 Corinthians 7:7) MY marriage is a grace gift, not only to me and my husband for the purpose of building up our house and our church, but to show others that they too can be built up and encouraged and chase after and receive goodness.

My prayer for you, no matter what kind of season you find yourself in, whether in marriage or in some other context of life, is that you will remember and reclaim your charisma! If you’re not a Christ follower and do not believe in such gifts being given by God, then I pray that you will make the decision (especially in your marriage relationship!) to chase after the love that you started with always! May we all reclaim our grace gifts in this new year, and may God be glorified all the more for it.

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