Finding Beauty

I think this is one of our best pictures ever. My grandma would be so proud! :)

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Music is a huge part of my life. Well, huge may be a slight understatement as pretty much every member in my family is in someway musical.

My grandfather led the "hymn singing" in his Nazarene church. He was accompanied by my grandmother on the organ, and my father on the piano.

My father is a gifted musician and arranger (or de-ranger as he likes to call it). My whole life he has been using his love for the Lord and his love of music to lead others in worship. His passion is teaching others how to truly worship the Lord- both in song and in lifestyle.

My mother loves to sing. She says she sounds best when singing behind closed doors. Out of respect for her I won't argue this point at all. :) I'll just say that it was my mother who brought music into my everyday life. Singing silly, nonsense songs, dancing around the house to the oldies, and belting out the sad tunes of country-western she showed me that music is emotional.

My brothers are both very talented musically. My youngest brother, however, is the one carrying on the worship leading torch in the family. He, at the age of 20, is currently interning under the worship leader of a church in Ohio. The boy is gifted y'all. He can pick up an instrument and play it. He can write and compose and sing and do it all. And best of all, he is passionate about worshiping.

And, not to be forgotten, my husband. He's a drummer. And a good one at that. Some may argue that a drummer, who is just a drummer, is not technically a musician. I would say that such a statement does not apply to J. The man knows his stuff, let me tell you.

So, what was my point??

Oh, yes, music is a huge part of my life. It is a huge part of J. and I's life together. Actually, music is what drew us together- not just once, but twice.

I was thinking today about the second time that music drew us together. Mind if I tell the story?

About 2 years before we were married, J.'s dad died very tragically. It was a tough set of circumstance to walk through for all concerned, but it was really difficult for J. After a few weeks of trying to keep everything together we realized that in order for J. to begin to heal we needed to end our relationship.

Can we say HEART. BREAKING?

Walking away from the man I was deeply in love with, while he was going through utter turmoil, well it was one of the most difficult things I have ever had to do.

And let me just take a second to say that we are not quitters. This was a last resort for us. And honestly, it turned out to be such a blessing in disguise. God used that time to work wonders in our lives.

But I am getting a head in the story...

About a month after we broke up, my dad came to me with a song he needed me to sing at church. When he told me that the song was I Hope You Dance, I am pretty sure I laughed in his face. Not that it's a bad song mind you, in fact, it is now one of my favorites. However, at the time I was not in the mood for such "sap".

My dad graciously informed me of 2 things; 1) The song went with the sermon (something about hope, I think) and so it had to sung by someone, and 2) In his opinion no one else could sing it with the same conviction that I could. In light of all that had been going on in and around my life at the time, you see.

So, I sat down with the word sheet and looked it over real good. By the time I got to the end I was almost in tears. I realized that if there was anything I could say to J. it would be the words of that song. Word for word it captured my hopes and prayers for him.

Duh, that was exactly my dad's reason for wanting me to sing it. (He's smarter than the average bear!)

For weeks I worked on this song. Doing my best to make it perfect, all the while praying that some how J. would be there to hear it. We had not spoken to each other since the break up and I wasn't sure where he was at in his life. Of course the Lord is good to see through all the small details of His masterful plans. How silly of me to doubt that.

Anyway, the Sunday came for me to sing the song. We have 5 services at our church and so by the time the 4th one rolled around I was nice and warmed up. A line or two into the first verse my mom caught my eye. She was standing in the very back of the sanctuary pointing, every so discreetly, to her left. As I was singing I slowly moved my gaze to look where she was directing me.

There, peering in from the back door, stood J. I almost lost it. I almost broke down right there on the stage. Finally, I had the chance to say to him what I had been dying to tell him. I was able to stand there and sing the words directly to him. Laying my heart all out on the line in front of, oh I don't know, only a couple hundred congregants.

I didn't see J. after the service. I didn't expect to. My purpose for singing the song was not to get back together with J. I was ready to accept whatever the Lord had for each of us, together or apart. I just simply wanted to communicate hope to a man I cared deeply about.

Well, seeing as how we are now married and pregnant, we obviously got back together. Would y'all believe that he called me up the very next night and asked me if I still loved him, 'cuz he still loved me, and would I think about getting back together? (Um, YES I still love you!)

During that time in our lives the Lord showed us both that hope is necessary in all circumstances. No matter how large, or small. And that real hope can only come from faith in the One who has it all under control.

I also realized how truly important music is in my life. It is emotional.

Even sappy songs have their moments.

And, I Hope You Dance, well it was the song we first danced to as Husband and Wife. Seemed only fitting.


I hope you never lose your sense of wonder
You get your fill to eat but always keep that hunger
May you never take one single breath for granted
God forbid love ever leave you empty handed

I hope you still feel small when you stand by the ocean
Whenever one door closes, I hope one more opens
Promise me you'll give faith a fighting chance
And when you get the choice to sit it out or dance
I hope you dance

I hope you never fear those mountains in the distance
Never settle for the path of least resistance
Living might mean taking chances but they're worth taking
Lovin' might be a mistake but it's worth making

Don't let some hell bent heart leave you bitter
When you come close to selling out reconsider
Give the heavens above more than just a passing glance
And when you get the choice to sit it out or dance
I hope you dance

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Jonathan was asked to speak last night for The Exchange, which is the high school ministry at our church. The topic, control, was part 2 in a series called "Experiencing God in the Suburbs".

The talk was recorded and I am posting a link below for anyone who cares to listen. And you should care to listen 'cuz it's good stuff. And I'm not just saying that- really- it was good stuff. I needed to hear it myself.

Who's Calling the Shots?

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Barb, at A Chelsea Morning, is asking how people met their spouses. Since I've been in a blogging funk lately, I thought this might help pull me out. So, for your reading enjoyment, here's my story...


In the fall of 2000 my family up and moved from Southern California to Vermont. I was 20 years old at the time.

Upon moving to the Green Mountain State I found myself leading worship for the youth group at our church. (Still not sure how that one happened since I do not play an instrument, but never the less, I did it).

One Sunday morning, after the youth service was over, a very good looking face caught my attention. I quickly averted my eyes thinking it was just one of the students. I went about my business and did not think another thought about that handsome face cause that would have just been wrong.

Several days later my younger brother Andy, who was 14 at the time, began pestering me about meeting some guy named Jon. Jon could play the drums on the youth worship team, he would say. Jon's from Southern California too, he would say. And, I think you're gonna marry him, he would say.

Since this was my 14 year old brother talking I, of course, ignored him. I just figured my brother had found a hero to worship and wanted everyone to do the same.

For weeks Andy continued to tell me that I should marry this guy and why wouldn't I just meet him already?!?

And still, I ignored him. I was not interested in having a boyfriend, I was not interested in getting married and I was not interested in being set up by my 14 year old brother. (Have I mentioned that yet?)

Well, then the magic happened. (Gods' kind of magic).

About a month or so later I was helping to chaperone a youth event. At the start of the night Andy came running up to me and said, "Jon is here, you have to meet him. I'll go find him."

Trying to hide from Andy and his suitor, I introduced myself into a conversation that my other brother, Gabe, was having with someone named Jonathan.

Hmm, I thought, Jonathan looks strangely familiar...

Halfway through that thought Andy comes running up, "Oh, you've met him already?!"

Yep, you guessed it. Jonathan was Jon. Andy's Jon. The Jon that Andy had been raving about for a month now. The Jon that my 14 year old brother had been trying to set me up with.

Jonathan was also the good looking face from the back of the youth room that I had seen months earlier. Turns out that face didn't belong to a student after all.

And folks, can I just say... I was smitten. Right on the spot, I was head over heels infatuated with that man.


I don't believe in love at first sight, but I knew at that moment Andy had been right all along. I was going to marry that man.

And, four years later I did just that.

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I have sung his praises on here before, and much to the chagrin of those that dislike the mushy stuff (my husband among them), I must sing this little tune once more. I have the greatest husband alive!

Really, I do.

I was having a bad day yesterday. I'm talking PMS bad. No, I am talking PMS, uncooperative hair, largest cold sore known to man (seriously, it is HUGE), work day from H-E-Double Hockey Sticks, mountains of laundry to conquer, massive sinus headache, a thousand things still to do before leaving the country for 2 weeks bad.

IT. WAS. BAD. (Are you getting the picture yet?)

And I was grumpy. Very grumpy. By the time I picked my husband up after work I was in tears. Actually, that too is an understatement. I was in the middle of a mini-melt down thanks to my dog who was barking insanely at every living soul who walked by the car. Just made things all the more dramatic, and I love drama, right mom?!

Anyway, I digress.

My sweet husband gets in the car, takes one look at me and says, very matter-of-factly, "This is what we are going to do..." He then begins to address every stressful thing that was running through my head. Here's the superhero part... he just knew what was wrong without having to ask. He fixed all the problems in matter of minutes, like he was Marry Poppins with a magic carpet bag.

He relieved me of my plans to make a nice, well thought-out meal.
He finished the last few loads of laundry for me.
He vacuumed the entire house.
He took out the trash.
He cleaned the BATHROOM! (His least favorite chore)

All the while, I took my time preparing a very simple salad for dinner. Yes, feeling slightly guilty, but he would not let me help do anything else. He knew what I need and he blessed me immensely by selflessly giving me the night off. That puts him firmly in the hero category for me.

(I won't mention that his ulterior motive was most likely getting the house cleaned quickly so he could watch 24 all night. If I had done the cleaning there wouldn't have been time for such trivialities. But like I said, I won't mention such things).

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